Chasing Jack
by TC1097
Summary: The NCIS team believes Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo to be deceased.  But a new lead they uncover on a case may be all it takes to open the door for them to learn the truth about what really happened.
1. Chapter 1

**Chasing Jack**

**Chapter One**

All the other years on this date the bay had been a deep crisp cold blue. But this year the water was a vastly different shade. A hue more green than blue, more tepid than frigid, more forgiving than haunting.

Shifting his gaze towards the sky he noted the contrast there as well. Light cool and gray instead of brilliant flawless and blue.

Somehow the contrast made the passage of time truly grip his heart and mind for the first time. Each and every time before the sky and the bay and their setting there had always had that same bright blue overhead and intensely dark water below. The place had always been frozen in time to him. The lack of change had allowed him to indulge in his denial. His visit here once a year had always affirmed that was how it was supposed to stay.

But now as his eyes stared back down into the water it struck him. Four years to the very day had come and gone and each one had passed void of the man he had come to think of as a son. Tony had died here under a flawless and brilliant blue sky. He had perished in the crisp cold deep blue water of the bay exactly four years ago and until today it had not infiltrated Leroy Jethro Gibbs' heart and mind that that much time had really truly gone by. On the calendar four years was a long time. But the pain of his loss had remained constant, freshly raw and so thoroughly wrong and unacceptable.

He had lost more than one friend that day. Tobias Fornell had been involved in the whole ugly mess. In fact if it had not been for the FBI agent Tony would never have been at this place to begin with that day. Harsh words and one hell of a right hook had estranged the two agents. Gibbs had no intention of ever forgiving him. He had no remorse for the right hook. He only wished that Vance and McGee had not pulled him off of the bastard before he had gotten the chance to do more damage.

Initially he had been set upon leaving NCIS for good. He had changed his mind the day of Tony's memorial service. There had never been a funeral. They had never been able to recover his body from the bay. But that day at the service Gibbs had seen the rest of his team bound together in their support of one another and yet at the same time so isolated and alone in their own individual sadness and grief. If he had left then the next time one of them was in danger he would not have been there for them either. And he wanted to be there to stop it, well, at the very least to be there to have a chance to able to try and stop it. He had never gotten that opportunity when it was Tony who had needed him.

Gibbs had vowed to keep the remainder of the team close to the vest. There had been new security measures and procedures drilled into them until they were engrained as second nature. There had been other improvements as well but somehow not once over the last several years had it ever felt like enough to him. He supposed in retrospect that was because not a single one of those things could ever accomplish what it was he really wanted and that was having Tony back by his side.

With his steely blue gaze locked on the green water before him he quietly uttered out a confession that had never before traveled any further than the edges of his heart. Somehow until that moment allowing the sentiment to cross out over his lips would have meant acceptance on his part. But today he no longer believed that.

Today the words that slipped between his lips were one simple thing.

The truth.

"I miss you Tony. A lot."

Barely having delivered the words into the air he departed. His heart certain he could never bear to bring himself to this place again.

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Tim McGee slammed his index finger into the letter _T_ on his keyboard with so much force it made the pens and pencils stored in a cup on his desk rattle. That particular letter and its apparent trouble making cohort, the letter _D_, had been sticking all morning long. They had worked perfectly fine when he had departed the office the evening prior. It was as if someone had used his computer while munching on a jelly doughnut and had dripped the filling in the keyboard causing the keys to get all mucked up and sticky. Either that or this was a cruel joke.

It was really bad timing for this type of slow down. He had what felt like endless reports and paperwork to do and he didn't need this kind of delay. But who would have used his computer For one thing who would have been able to figure out the multiple levels of passwords? He couldn't think of a single person. "_Besides Abby that is!" _he added as an afterthought. So that left someone pranking him but who would want to do that? "_Well, Tony would of course!"_ he thought. Then he immediately froze upon mentally registering what he had just thought. He couldn't believe that had sprung into his mind so carelessly.

"Argh!" he growled under his breath and hit his fist on the desk top. He attempted to inhale a calming breath but failed miserably. Closing his eyes he leaned back in the chair rather defeated and brimming with frustration.

Being Senior Field Agent had turned out to be a lot more involved than Tony had ever made it appear. Tim couldn't fathom how DiNozzo had managed all of this all while having it appear so thoroughly effortless and strolling around still looking like he had just waltzed out of a GQ photo shoot. Tim had been senior agent for four years now and although he certainly had the ropes down and technical side of things squared away he still couldn't do it with the kind of style in which Tony had for so many years.

Finally he was able to blow out a breath but it gave him little in the way of relief. Opening his weary eyes he rolled his head and glanced around his cubicle. The desk had been Tony's for so many years. It had felt almost wrong somehow when Tim moved out of his own into this one. But it had been either that or let the new agent on the team sit there and the thought of that had just been unbearable. As he looked around his eyes fell upon the calendar and the current date which was October 17th. Instantly he looked away again.

Today was the anniversary of Tony's death.

Then he shook his head realizing that there was a prankster after all. The only letters that had been sticking on his keyboard that morning had been the _T _and the _D_. Apparently Tony DiNozzo had the ability to prank from the great beyond.

"I wouldn't put it past him!" he whispered.

"Wouldn't put what past who?" Ziva inquired as she turned into the team's area from the aisle.

"Past whom?" Tim corrected her, straightening up in his chair. He picked up his keyboard and inspected it from all angles for the fiftieth time within the last few hours. But just like all the other times there was nothing to be found.

"No Gibbs?" she inquired as she settled into her desk. There was a beat of silence before McGee responded and even when he did all he offered was a tossed nod of the head in the direction of the calendar that was tacked up on her cubicle wall.

"I'm going down to Abby's so I have some space to take apart this keyboard. See if I can fix it!" he informed her as he disconnected the offending piece of equipment from his computer. Only a breath later he had headed off towards the elevator.

Ziva looked over at her _Beautiful Beaches_ calendar in search of why Tim had referred her to it as an answer to her inquiry. At the end of every day before departing she crossed out the date on the calendar. Now her eyes fell upon the next date that was not yet completed. Today was the 17th of October.

She sighed. It was the only date in the year she never crossed out. Maybe to someone else it would have seemed silly but that date would never be completed to her. Not to any of them who had been Tony's family. McGee had been spot on though the date certainly accounted for Gibbs' absence. He would eventually turn up but he had always been the last to arrive on this day.

None of them knew exactly where he had been before he arrived. They had shared theories amongst one another with the exception of Ducky who stayed tellingly silent during those conversations. There were two theories on that as well. Either the doctor was remaining quiet out of respect for Gibbs or he knew the real answer.

Either way Ziva despised the reason for all the theorizing in the first place. Tony's death had ripped him away from all of them forever. Not even one of them had the chance to say goodbye. He had even been robbed of a proper honorable burial. It was ugly and wrong and all too vivid.

This thought had scarcely passed through her mind before she had the calendar inside a vice grip tearing it down from its spot of the cubicle wall. It was then deposited rather roughly into the trash can beside her chair. For good measure she delivered a kick to the rubbish barrel. The force resulted in it sliding beneath the desk.

"Wow! What crime did that calendar commit to deserve such treatment?" a voice asked her. The words drew her out of the haze of anger she had been wandering through. She looked up to find Agent Moore standing on the other side of her desk.

"Trust me you do not want to know," she stated firmly in the hope he would let it stand at that. Luckily for him he did. Promptly the young man continued over to his desk which was located diagonally from where her own stood.

Even after all this time it was not entirely settled in her that McGee no longer sat in the spot. She had caught herself more than once looking up to say something to him in that direction instead of where he now resided at Tony's old desk directly across from hers. Resisting that train of thought she stood and made her way to the newest member of the team. He had been with them now just under two years.

"I am sorry. I should not have snapped at you," she offered quietly. Moore looked up from his seat at the desk. His expression was calm but his eyes betrayed him. He could always make understanding appear as the expression on his face but had not yet perfected the art of concealing the other not so pretty emotions in the soft brown irises of his gaze.

"Not a problem. We all have our moments, right?" he replied.

"This is true. However it does not eliminate the need for apology."

"I'd be an idiot to argue, wouldn't I?" he responded. The wince at her potential physically painful reply showed in his eyes.

Today was October 17th so after a beat Ziva chose kindness over violence. With an affirming nod of the head she returned to her seat back to her own desk.

"I only see two of you!" Gibbs demanded as he turned the corner into the grouping of desks. One of the first new rules had been regarding awareness. Ziva began to open her mouth to offer the information requested but Gibbs put up a hand in her direction indicating for her to stop. He then looked over at Moore.

"I was…just about to…ask Ziva!" he stammered out. This earned him a razor sharp glare but the team lead turned to his other agent.

"McGee is down in Abby's lab. Something about a keyboard I think," she informed him. Gibbs turned and began to settle in at his desk. While he was looking away Moore glanced over to Ziva and silently mouthed words to thank her for saving their butts. She understood. She too knew that if one of them had not held the answer there would have been drills or procedure review or lord only knew what else Gibbs might put them through these days. She smiled softly at him. Moore was a capable agent. Perhaps he was a bit subdued and occasionally serious but definitely a team player.

Gibbs looked up and glared at them as if he was fully aware of what had just transpired but they were spared his opinion of it by the ringing of a phone. The team leader snatched up the receiver and offered the caller his usual greeting.

"Gibbs!"

And with that single word they were off on a journey. One that could give them back what they all thought they had lost forever.

_To Be Continued…._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chasing Jack**

**Chapter Two**

Jack Cutter peered up into the autumn morning. The cloudless sky overhead matched the color of his gaze, a crystal clear and striking blue. It was bright and crisp and endless.

He shifted his line of sight letting it drift downwards and out across the bay. The water laid out before his eyes was intensely dark and deep. It reminded him of another bay that lay hundreds of miles south of the spot where he now stood and from a whole other lifetime ago.

His body shivered in reaction to the memory. It was amazing how a familiar image could thrust your entirety right out back into a moment in time. Jack could feel himself free falling down through the open air. He could feel his body impacting the water below. The bite of its temperature had gripped his every muscle causing them to seize up so that he had to fight to remain in control.

Despite having only been semi conscious at the time the sensation would remain imprinted upon his body and mind until the day that he died.

As the thought floated through his mind it triggered another sensation. A deep ache radiated throughout his body. _Until the day that he died. _The sky and the bay and the physical memory had inevitably reminded him. He was already dead. Had been for quite some time now. It really had turned out differently than he thought. If he was going to be dead he preferred the _walk into the light, pearly gates, welcome to the party _version. This _still stuck in real life, working to just earn a buck, constantly on the move, and endlessly alone_ version kind of sucked. Well, it had its moments but as an overall user review rating he would give it a D+ at best. Had it been a film he would have commented that the plotline was strong but the details definitely left something to be desired. He was sure Ebert would have agreed with him.

Had it really been four years? It felt more like fourteen!

Jack blew out a heavy breath in an attempt to keep himself in check. He simply couldn't let himself get tangled up in that web of reflection. He had to keep things in perspective. Perspective was what had gotten him this far without his next relocation being into the nearest looney bin. Or quite possibly a shallow and very real unmarked grave.

It had been the right thing. What was done was done. Like it or not he had to just keep moving onward.

His blue eyes trained on the road up ahead and his golden blonde hair dancing about in the October breeze he started running again. Arriving at the fork in the jogging path at the bottom of the bridge Jack Cutter chose to veer onto the trail to his right. Picking up the pace he left the bay at his back and the past tucked away in a place safely removed from his heart.

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As he entered through the doorway Gibbs' gaze landed briefly upon the array of plastic caps with letters printed on them that were spread out beside the skeleton of a computer keyboard. The collection of pieces covered the center table in the forensics lab. It looked like he felt – a bare bones framework whose pieces had been forcibly extracted one by one.

He looked away.

The scientist and his senior field agent were huddled together in front of one of the computers discussing something on the monitor he could not see from his position. The team leader could not help but notice one particular piece of Abby's attire. Set backwards atop of her head was a dark blue NCIS cap. He knew it was not just another one of the agency's hats. Scrawled in black marker on the inside of the cap were initials handwritten long ago by its owner. That hat had belonged to one agent in particular and had been in the care of the young forensics specialist for the last four years.

Abby even had rules to follow regarding the cap. It was absolutely not under any circumstances to leave the lab. Apparently the risk of loss or damage was too great. Also there was an exclusive list of individuals who were permitted to wear it while visiting the lab. It was to be returned promptly to its designated spot, a fireproof box in her office, before they departed.

At one time or another he had seen each member of his team sporting it around the lab as they visited with Abby. Even Ducky had slipped it on once or twice. Each and every one of them had at some point needed the connection it provided. That was with the exception of himself of course. He had been the one to relinquish the hat to her care. But Gibbs had been the only one unable to bring himself to wear it. He had held it in his hands a few times, run his fingertips over the faded initials on the inside, but had managed to go no further than that. He hadn't earned it. He hadn't been there when Tony needed him.

"Gibbs!" Abby's voice cried out and pulled him abruptly from his mental meanderings. It also prompted McGee to spin around towards him. The team lead let out a half chuckle. Then they both just looked at him, deer in the headlights expressions capturing their faces.

"Why do you two knuckleheads look so surprised? Unless McGee has a twin _you_ called _me_ down here."

"You don't do you?" Abby inquired in Tim's direction.

"I don't what?" he replied.

"Have a twin?"

"Last time I checked – no."

"How often do you check?" she responded back in less than a beat.

"It – I - it's just a saying Abby. I haven't actually checked."

"Wouldn't it be weird if you did check and discovered one."

"Yes. That _would_ be weird."

"Maybe we should chec…." Abby began to suggest but Gibbs cut her off with a deliberately loud clearing of the throat. He followed it up with an expression that told them if they didn't steer this discussion back on track a pair of head slaps would be forthcoming.

"Yes. Right. We did. Didn't we?" McGee jumped in with after a beat.

"That's true. We did," the forensics expert agreed.

"_And_?" Gibbs snapped.

"_And_ have we ever got something you are going to want to see!" Abby answered him. She swiveled her chair back towards the computer monitor and began to type furiously away on the keyboard.

"You are not going to believe this Boss!" McGee added.

"Spit out already!" the team lead reacted. His impatience surfaced more in the tone than the chose of words.

"We got a monitoring hit on a case."

"Any possibility you could narrow it down a bit there Abs? Which one of a dozen or so are we talking about?"

"The Wheel," McGee answered before Abby could even open her mouth to reply.

Those two simple words grabbed the team leader's undivided attention. In the next breath he had pushed between the scientist and his agent and was studying the image on the monitor that they had been discussing a few minutes before. Both Tim and Abby's gazes were now trained upon the older man, expectant that his expression would reveal the depth of the impact the news had delivered. The case, which focused upon an expansive network of people known as The Wheel, had been the one which had gotten Tony killed.

When no immediate reaction arrived on Gibbs' face and he just continued to stare at the information in front of him without so much as blinking Abby piped up.

"Recognize him?"

"Oh yeah. I recognize him all right," Gibbs stated with near hatred lacing his tone.

"Hard to believe after all this time we finally got a hit on one of the key members of The Wheel. And Devon Davis no less," Tim commented quietly.

"Where did this come from?" Gibbs asked, glancing over to Abby's then back to the monitor.

"You remember how I had set up monitors on a whole list of names and even keywords and other little tidbits relating to the case? Ya know in hopes we would get a hit at some point. Well I kept those trackers running this whole time…"

"Abby!" the team lead stated firmly in an attempt to reel her in a little. She got the message and explained with the specifics he was urging her to reveal.

"Arlington, Virginia police department. I checked all my trackers – I do that every day – usually in the morning and just before I leave – and when I just checked them now – _bham!_ there it was. I have a contact over there at Arlington PD so I got her to send over this photo. Since the hit was just on the name alone. I wanted to make sure it was really him – just in case there was some kind of mistake – before I called you down here. Well, okay, that part was McGee's idea, but turns out it really is him Gibbs. Unfortunately, as you can see from this photo Devon Davis is no longer with us. He was found dead yesterday afternoon."

"Doesn't mean he can't still tell us what we want to know," Gibbs replied. His voice was different this time, determined yet not so sharply edged. McGee took the opening to break the news.

"Boss, I took the liberty of contacting Arlington PD about it and they are dragging their feet on transferring the case."

"I don't give a damn what they had to say! He's UA from the Navy. He's involved with the murder of an NCIS agent! My agent! He's ours!"

"Right – on it – I guess I could call Van…" McGee began to think out loud but a glare from the older man told him all he needed to know. Gibbs would resolve that little issue. After that communication was delivered the team lead offered further instruction. This time verbally.

"You get the gear so we can go over to the scene. Have Ducky and Palmer go get the body."

"Arlington PD already has all the evidence at their lab," Abby interjected.

"Not for long!" Gibbs called over his shoulder as he briskly departed the lab. Quiet fell back over the room for a long moment after he had exited. A heavy static was palpable in the air. Both Abby and Tim could feel it but the agent was the one who braved to address it.

"You ready for this?" he asked.

"I don't know, Tim. Don't get me wrong when we first got the hit I was super excited but now it's kind of sinking in ya know?"

"Tell me about!"

"You too?"

"Yeah. I mean this could be the break we need. I want to latch on to it. Go after it with everything we've got. But what if it's just another dead end? Then…"

"Then we will have failed all over again," Abby sadly completed his sentence for him when he seemed stalled in the ability to do so. Abby hung her head a little and Tim leaned back against the edge of the table and let his gaze drift out across the room towards the doorway. Both were still and silent for a few moments. It was an unsettling thought at best. Having been forced to move on after the case had run into one dead end after another they had felt that somehow by doing so they had failed their friend and teammate. The idea of having to live through that all over again was by no means a comforting thought.

Finally Abby shifted and it drew McGee to look back towards her. Their eyes met and she offered him a hint of smile. Then reaching up to her head she slipped off the cap she had been wearing for the better part of the day. She ran her fingertips gently along the line of its brim before slowly turning it over so that the inside faced upward. Both she and Tim peered down into it. The black ink there was badly faded and now just beginning to blend together into the dark shade of the fabric underneath it. But the initials that had been written in marker years earlier were still readable – _VSAAD_ – Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

The reminder of Tony's unique take on self description made them both smile faintly this time. It also brought something else, strength and determination. The change came through in his voice when Tim finally spoke up.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not willing to let him down again."

"I'm with you McGee. Nothing is getting in the way this time! Nothing will stop us!" Abby declared. Her voice was now more fiery than sad. She slipped the baseball cap back onto her head, this time with the brim faced forwards, and then offered what they both had been thinking.

"For Tony."

_To Be Continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chasing Jack**

**Chapter Three**

Tim squinted up into the hazy glow overhead as he climbed out of the driver's side of the navy blue sedan. The forecast had called for overcast skies all day but now it appeared the sun was making a run at burning through the clouds. And, of course, his sunglasses were tucked away in a drawer back in his desk.

He almost hoped the sun didn't succeed and not just because of the present location of his shades. As he had looked up into the growing brightness he had suddenly been thrust back in time to another place where he had paused and done the very same thing.

Four years earlier he had climbed out of a similar car and peered up into the sky for a long moment. That time had been at the scene where Tony had perished into the bay. The sky had been such an intense blue that day that the young agent wasn't sure he had ever seen it that particular color before and the brilliant sunlight beaming down had been nearly painful in its brightness. It was not something he wanted to have to look up into on this day.

"McGee!" Gibbs' voice crashed in through his thoughts.

"Yeah Boss!"

"Were you under the impression this was some kind of weather watcher field trip?"

"No Boss. And I think the word you were searching for is _meteorological_."

"The only thing I'm searching for is my senior field agent on my six."

"Right Boss!" Tim responded and scrambled to lock up the vehicle and then catch up to the team lead who was already part way down the sidewalk towards their destination. They had acquired the evidence in the Devon Davis case from Arlington PD and delivered it to Abby. Ducky and Palmer were in the process of obtaining the body and transferring it to NCIS autopsy. So far Ziva and Agent Moore had been left out of the loop. When Tim had mentioned giving them the news Gibbs had simply responded with a solid but calm _"Not yet."_. The discussion had ended there.

Now they were headed for the location where Davis' body had been found the day prior. Even though Arlington PD had processed the scene they weren't about to leave to chance that something had been overlooked. Not this time. Not on this case.

As Tim trailed the more senior agent through the doorway into the apartment building the other man's words swirled around inside his head. _"The only thing I'm searching for is my senior field agent on my six." _It had made him think of DiNozzo. Keeping these types of thoughts at bay was proving impossible this day.

Usually he could cut them short or tuck them away until he was off duty. But the words almost seemed to be infused with a dual meaning – even if Gibbs himself didn't realize it. Tim feared that the other man would forever be searching for the senior field agent he lost to be back on his six. Especially since Tony had been more to the older man. DiNozzo had been his long time partner and friend. Even more perhaps Tony had been like a chosen son or a rambunctious little brother to Gibbs. Tim had wavered back and forth on that one. Most days he had landed upon that Tony had been the closest Gibbs would ever have to a son and that, in turn, had made him big brother to the rest of them in their rather quirky little family.

"Boss! There's an elevator!" Tim called out to Gibbs as the senior agent headed in the direction of the stairwell. In reply Gibbs glanced around the lobby then spoke up.

"In this building? Odds of survival – not likely!" the team lead responded and started up the stairs. Tim took a second look around. Despite the fact that the building had looked average for the neighborhood on the outside it was merely a shell. Now studying the run down interior it did seem that maintenance was not particularly high on the priority list around the place. At second glance Tim wasn't even sure it was on the to-do list at all. That was if there even was a to-do to begin with and cleaning mostly certainly had never been so much as considered.

"The stairs it is!" he declared and headed off to the stairwell. Six flights later he was almost wishing he had risked the death trap of an elevator. Gibbs somehow stayed steadily ahead of him and Tim wondered if the man moved at this speed now what had he been like in his younger days? _Probably like Tony. _Once again the thought had come to mind without hesitation. He blew out an extended frustrated breath. Normally he excelled at focusing on the task at hand but today Very Special Anthony DiNozzo seemed to have hijacked his brain. He really needed to steal it back too. All this distraction was not good – dangerous even.

"Which one?" Gibbs asked as Tim joined him at the top of the steps.

"Should be down at the end on the left," Tim answered after a quick check of the numbers displayed upon the two nearest doorways and making a calculation inside his head. They headed down along the long hallway side by side in silence.

About halfway down towards the apartment where Devon Davis had been found Tim was about to open his mouth to speak but the words were halted before making it all the way out. The door to Apartment 665, the one they were headed towards, opened and two people stepped out into the hallway. The first was a slim figure perhaps five seven or five eight in height and wore a gray sweatshirt with the hood up over the person's head. The second was also wearing a hooded sweatshirt, this one black, and might have been two or three inches taller and twenty or so pounds heavier than the first. Closing the door behind them the duo turned to walk up the hallway in the direction McGee and Gibbs were headed down it. The combination of the dim lighting inside the building and the hoods made seeing any facial features impossible.

Noting the two men approaching the room that they had just exited and perhaps figuring the pair looked an awful lot like cops drew an immediate reaction. The hooded figures abruptly spun around in the opposite direction and set off at a dead run towards a stairwell at the far end of the hall.

"Stop! Federal agents!" Tim called out as both he and the team leader gave chase with weapons drawn. As the hooded subjects reached the top of the stairwell Gibbs voice rang out through the corridor.

"Federal agents! Stop now!"

Neither the words nor the commanding tone of voice it was delivered in had any impact. Both individuals simply kept going, disappearing down the stairway. Gibbs made the end of the hall first and leaned over the railing, catching sight of the two fleeing individuals.

"They're splitting up. Stay on gray. I'll take black!" the team leader called back over his shoulder as he took off down the stairs. Tim was not far behind now and when he had descended the first flight he saw what Gibbs had meant. The person in the gray sweatshirt had gotten off the stairs on the fifth floor and was now running along the hallway, more than likely towards the stairwell at the opposite end of the building.

The team lead and the person in the black sweatshirt had continued downward. McGee took off down the hallway, pouring every ounce of muscle and breath into it. Three quarters of the way down along the long narrow corridor he had closed the gap considerably. The subject of his pursuit was about to make the top of the stairs. The person was slowing slightly and Tim was making the very end of the hall. Just an extra little push and he knew he would be able to reach out and grab the back of the sweatshirt inside his fist.

Just as the realization of how truly close he was to catching the person washed through him a tall lanky young man pushing a bicycle out ahead him stepped out of an apartment doorway right in front of him. The harsh impact of their bodies shot the breath out of McGee's lungs and sent him toppling over sideways onto the floor. Desperately he struggled to get back to his feet but found that both the young man and bike were heaped on top of him.

"Get up! Move! Get up!" he cried out to the person now sprawled out across his lower body. Simultaneously he worked at dislodging his right foot from the wheel of the bicycle.

"I'm a federal agent! Get off me now or I won't hesitate to…!" he snapped out as he turned his head in the direction of the stairway. Finding that the person he had been chasing had now disappeared out of sight down the stairs cut his warning short and fully ignited his frustration. He turned back to the man who was now incredibly slowly working to untangle himself from his bike and the federal agent he had just landed upon. With his left hand McGee gave the man's shoulder a hard shove upwards and with his right he raised his weapon.

"On your feet now!" he yelled. The young man scrambled to his feet then took several steps backwards with his hands raised up in the air. The expression of terror that captured his face made Tim realize what he had just done and he lowered the weapon. Then kicked the bicycle out of the way and got to his feet.

"Sorry!" he tossed back over his shoulder as he bolted down the remainder of the corridor and into the stairwell.

Tim's heart pulsed furiously outward against his chest as he raced down the stairs. Flight after flight he careened around the turns on the brink of being out of control. Letting this guy get away was simply unacceptable even if his aching lungs disagreed at the moment.

As he made the turn onto the second floor landing he heard a door slam shut at the bottom of the stairwell. The person had made the first floor and had now more than likely exited the building. It only fueled his already red hot frustration and anger and he took the remaining steps in only a few thumps of his rapidly beating heart.

He burst through the doorway out onto the sidewalk with weapon raised up in preparation of whatever threat may reside on the other side. Frantically, Tim scanned the area in search of the subject of his pursuit.

Off to right he spotted the hooded figure just reaching the end of the building. Tim took off at a desperate pace once again as he watched the person turn the corner and disappear down the alleyway between the building and the neighboring one. Arriving at the same corner he stopped and leaned his body against the brick of the building's exterior. Then he stole a swift glance around the corner. There was a vehicle parked halfway down the alley and the gray hooded figure was in the process of clamoring into the driver's seat of it. Tim also caught that a collection of papers that had been sticking out of the person's back pocket had gotten knocked out onto the ground as the person settled in behind the steering wheel.

Realizing that his last shot at stopping the person was in this moment Tim stepped out into the middle of the opening to the alleyway and leveled his weapon at the driver's side of car. The person started the engine and then the two stood faced off neither giving for a long moment. The driver of what Tim could now see was a silver Volkswagen revved the engine indicating what they intended to do. Tim shook his head in the negative, urging the person not to do it. He stood his ground, remaining positioned dead center in the exit to the alleyway. But the driver did it anyway and in the next instant the vehicle was speeding down the alley towards the agent. He jumped to the side as the car bore down upon him. The passenger side rearview mirror passed by his body by no more than a handful of inches. The vehicle careened around the corner to the right.

McGee made for the sidewalk as fast as his legs would carry him. But his heart was pounding furiously out against the constraints of his chest wall and his progress was moderate at best. It was then that the gunshot rang out through the air. He stopped dead in his tracks and let the sound sink into him in an attempt to decipher from which direction it had originated.

Tim was in motion even before the realization had completely traveled through his mind. The sound had come from the alleyway on the opposite side of the building – the direction in which his boss and the other hooded figure had set out towards. He raced around the corner of the building and out onto the sidewalk in time to see the person in the black sweatshirt who Gibbs had been chasing backing out of the alley at the opposite side of the building. A Smith & Wesson handgun was grasped in the suspect's right hand and the weapon was raised up pointing back down into the alleyway from which he had just emerged. Gibbs was nowhere in sight.

"Federal agent! Drop the weapon!" Tim cried out, raising his firearm towards the suspect. The command may have drawn a reaction if it had not been for the Volkswagen screeching to a halt down on the roadway next to the suspect. The hooded figure inside reached over and flung the passenger side door open. The partner dove inside and in the next instant the vehicle was speeding away. McGee had not even had so much as a chance in the situation. Firing at the suspects had not been an option since there were bystanders in the area. Added to that had been the distance and how incredibly fast it had occurred. His own vehicle was parked further down the street and he wasn't about to leave without – _Gibbs_!

Less than a full inhale after the thought had materialized Tim was running towards the alleyway at the opposite side of the building.

"Please please please! God please!" he whispered desperately as he made the corner of the building. Terror rippled through him as the mental echo of the gunshot reverberated inside his mind. Gibbs had to be alright. There was no other way it could turn out – no other way it could be. He had lost Kate. He had lost Tony. He was absolutely certain if he lost another his sanity might just go right along with them.

At the mouth of the alleyway Tim's gaze frantically searched for the team leader. There were cardboard boxes, trash cans, many and varied pieces of litter, a broken discarded table, but no one in sight.

His dead run pace faded with each passing stride into a light jog. The back end of the alley was dim, shadowed by the closeness of the buildings and the overhanging roofs above. Tim's grip tightened on the weapon in his hand – more out of fear what he might find and less out of potential threat. That was when he caught movement near the dumpster at the far end of the narrow alley. His lips parted to call out identifying himself and to deliver a command but the words never arrived into the air. Instead the young agent's body released a heavy pent up exhale of relief as he recognized Leroy Jethro Gibbs emerging from the shadows surrounding the dumpster and walking towards him.

Tim lowered his weapon and let his arms go to his sides as he watched the other man. The senior agent's hand was rubbing at his face and he was silent right up until he reached his Senior Field Agent. As his team lead arrived in front of him Tim noted the red and purplish lump that covered the other man's left cheekbone.

"What happened to you? Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Door. You?" the team lead asked with his gaze trained downward at Tim's left arm.

"Huh?" Tim responded then looked down at his own left hand. He hadn't even realized that he had gotten cut. Several nasty looking scrapes and a long gash decorated the skin on the top of his hand. Adrenaline must have masked the slight injury but there was only one place he could have received it.

"Bicycle!" he replied.

"Bicycle?"

"Don't ask."

"I won't. You catch a plate?"

"Yeah I'll call it in!" the younger agent replied holstering his weapon and grabbing his cell from his pocket. The call was brief and soon he was returning the phone to the place from which he had originally retrieved it.

"Get a look at all?" Gibbs inquired.

"No. You know the hood and it was kind of too dim. But I might have something. The suspect I was chasing dropped some papers."

"Let's see 'em."

"They're back in the other alley."

That small handful of words was all it took for the team leader to start marching off down the alleyway towards the street. Tim trailed after him suddenly feeling exhausted. The adrenaline was melting away and the hefty toll it always extracted was taking its place.

He arrived in the opposite alley just as the other man was snapping on a latex glove and bending down to pick up the folded up stack of papers. McGee came up beside him and studied each page as the team lead flipped through them. They were lists which consisted mostly of itineraries and detailed maps and several other sheets that seemed to be encrypted. They would all require further scrutiny but just from a first glimpse Tim knew that they had the lead they had been waiting so very long to uncover.

One glance up at the more senior agent as he read the papers confirmed that the two agents were thinking the same thing – they were going to give chase and this time around a dead end would simply not be the outcome. And maybe they would find something else to add to it back in the apartment where Davis' body had been found. Unless, of course, the duo they had chased had been there to clean up the place of anything useful.

Suddenly Tim felt if he had just been able to overcome that gap and capture their suspect they wouldn't feel quite so far behind right in that moment. Maybe if he had done more they would already be so much further ahead in their pursuit of those responsible for Tony's death. The words of apology slipped out from between his lips before he even realized he was going to speak.

"Boss I'm sorry that I didn't catch…" he began quietly before the other man cut him off from continuing.

Gibbs shot a glare over at him and then the team leader's hand came up a quarter of the way before being snapped closed into a fist. The expression on his face shifted from the usual one that accompanied the assault into one Tim couldn't quite read.

The older agent abruptly turned and walked away. It was the closest Tim had come to being head slapped in the last four years. The threat of it always lingered, either in Gibbs' glare or in his words. But somehow every since Tony's death the older agent had not delivered a full blown head slap to any of them. DiNozzo had been the main recipient of them on their team and somehow even when the gesture was delivered to someone else it had always carried some connection to Tony. It hadn't been the same with the head slap since. A lot of things were different now.

Most days that whole _moving on_ thing didn't feel as right as people made it out to be. Sure they had continued to work cases, go on about their daily lives, but it simply was not the same. For Tim one of the little things that was most noticeable and didn't seem right was the overwhelming and painful silence that arrived each and every time he said something that should have been followed by an off beat comment by Tony. But now all there was that heavy lifeless silence.

No. No it wasn't the same at all.

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Cleaning had not been Jack Cutter's favorite activity – at least not in his former life. Now it was daily routine and he braved to admit that maybe it had even become a rather strong habit. He wouldn't use the word _obsessed_. He could stop anytime he wanted. _Okay, maybe he couldn't_.

The process had become so engrained in his life that his body seemed to go on autopilot prompting him to roll up his sleeves and dig in with a whole lot of muscle power. For instance, like how he was now on his hands and knees scrubbing the shower after washing up after his run. Putting the sponge aside on the edge of the tub he reached over underneath the sink and retrieved the screwdriver he kept stored there. Using it to undo the screw that held the drain cover secured he placed the circular piece of metal on the edge of the tub as well. He then poked the tip of the screwdriver into the drain itself, scooping out the hair that had collected here.

"That's disgusting!" he commented out loud as he lifted the mushy blond clump out of the tub and dropped it into the trash bag beside him.

No matter how hard he scrubbed or how thoroughly he covered every inch of the place some physical trace of him would remain. Which was funny because that seemed like a lie somehow. He was becoming more and certain with the passing of each day that he was fading away into non existence. That one day like in some sci-fi flick he would wake up to find that overnight he had truly physically morphed into Jack Cutter or Sam Bright or any one of dozen other people he had once masqueraded as being in the past several years. Then those traces would no longer matter because they would belong to the person he had become and not the one he once had been. And it was the one he had once been that was in danger and could lead to the endangerment of others.

It had started innocently enough. Several relocations ago he realized he should make sure he kept the place picked up of personal items and the like in the event he had to take off in a hurry. It had grown gradually into something else a whole lot darker. Somewhere along the line he figured wiping down the place would slow down the retrieval of fingerprints or DNA and perhaps give him a better head start if he did have to relocate rather abruptly.

Ultimately, they would be found and identified but every mile further away it would afford him he could certainly use.

The off and on passes through wherever he was living at the time to clean up a bit became over time an intricate latex gloved near sterilization of the place. Looking back upon it now the fact that he had gone to such great lengths to wipe away as many traces of himself as possible was a bit unsettling. It was amazing how far you could take something without truly realizing what you were doing.

He sighed and sat back on his heels. He hated feeling invisible – always had. In his former life he had always made his presence known one way or another. Often it had resulted in a glare or roll of the eyes or some other similar reaction from the people present. But they had acknowledged that he was there and that was really all he had set out to accomplish.

Now here he was alone on the floor of a cramped bathroom in a nondescript apartment in a generic looking white building doing his damn best at erasing himself. Nausea crept up in him at the thought. Only one other person who his former self had known was aware he was still among the living. And now he himself was growing steadily to believe that soon the person he once had been would vanish completely.

One day he just might inadvertently succeed in wiping away the very last trace of himself. It sounded like something out of the _Twilight Zone_.

Jack shook his head in attempt to break away from the grip of those dark thoughts which seemed to have held him in a strong hold more frequently as of late. Quickly he replaced the drain cover, put the screwdriver back in its place, and scooped up the trash bag.

He stood up and made his way through his apartment to the kitchen. Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and his keys off the counter beside the back door he slipped out onto the rear porch of the building. After locking up he remained facing towards the door so that he could slip off the pair of latex gloves he had cleaned in and deposited them into the plastic bag in his hand. This trash just like all his other garbage would be either deposited into someone else's dumpster or if it happened to be trash day it would go into a random pile of bags along the sidewalk - just another attempt to remove the traces of his true identity. And just another routine action that pushed him further and further into anonymity.

Jack turned away from the doorway and moved to the top of the stairway. He paused there for a moment and gazed out over the bay and the small city of Portland, Maine. It was always a good idea to stop and take a look around because he never knew for certain when it would be time to move on and usually there was no time to take a last look back. And today his gut was urging him to take the time now to look around. He could tell that today would be a day he would spend his hours at work trying to cover his edginess. Often it was exhausting keeping his guard up all while not letting anyone else know that he was doing so.

"It's going to be one hell of a long day!" he whispered before heading off down the stairs and out into the city.

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"Alright everybody grab your gear. You'll need your go bags!" McGee announced breezing into the team's pod of desks. He hurriedly began scooping up what he would need, tossing items off his desk into his backpack and then rummaging through his desk for still others.

"What is going on?" Ziva asked as she began to gather up her own things.

"We have a solid lead on The Wheel case! We got a hit on one of the key players – Devon Davis. His body was found yesterday in Arlington. When Gibbs and I went back to the scene this morning we came across a major lead. We're headed out to go to chase it down. Abby, Ducky, and Palmer will work it from this end. We're on the next flight. We'll brief the details in the air."

The words sent the other two agents into action, scrambling to scoop up their own backpacks and other needed items. Ziva was grateful that they would be in motion. A year ago on this day there had been a lull in their cases and she been forced to spend the entire day stationed at her desk doing nothing more than a boatload of paperwork and periodically staring over at the desk situated directly across from her. It had been an excruciating eternity of a day.

"Where we headed?" the newest member of the team inquired.

"North!" McGee responded.

"I didn't mean directionally. I meant geographically," Moore tossed back.

"I'd say that distinction is too close to call!" Tim quickly retorted.

"McGee!"

"Yes Ziva."

"To what city, town, county, state, district or other location type are we headed?" she asked interceding into what would inevitably turn into one of their go arounds if she did not.

"Well, we are headed towards many places…."

"Which one will we be arriving at?" she demanded.

"The coastal city of Portland."

"Oregon," Moore chimed in.

"Portland, Oregon isn't a coastal city," the senior field agent stated flatly.

"It's on the water!" Moore offered.

"It's on a _river_. That's not a coast."

"So it's not Portland, Oregon then?"

"That is correct. We will be arriving in the small city of Portland, _Maine_ in just a few short hours."

"Maine? Is that part of Canada?" Moore inquired scratching at top of his head.

"No. It's not part of Canada! Did you miss the semester they taught geography?" McGee responded in a tone that indicated the absurdity of this conversation.

"Would have sworn I heard they succeeded to Canada," Moore murmured and winked over at Ziva when McGee closed his eyes in disbelief. She gave Moore a sly grin back. He was a relatively quiet person but every once in a while he could be mischievous especially when it was obvious that their senior field agent was stressed out. Most times it was enough to distract Tim from whatever he had developed tunnel vision for that was stressing him out – at least if only for a moment.

"You three coming or are ya waiting for a chauffeur and red carpet?" Gibbs' voice rang out into the bullpen. He was leaned halfway out of the elevator holding the door with his hand so it wouldn't shut before they all piled inside.

"On our way Boss!" McGee called back and urgently shooed the other two agents out into the aisle. Then sprinted over to the team lead's desk and snatched up his pack for him. As he made his way after the others he paused just for a moment at his desk and glanced at the American Pie coffee mug and letter opener that sat on its far corner. By the time they returned from the field this particular date on the calendar would have come and gone.

"You always loved road trips. Wish you were coming along. They miss you," Tim stated quietly then paused for a beat almost as if he was listening even though it was reflection before continuing.

"Alright fine! _I_ miss you. Are you satisfied now?" he whispered before racing off towards the now closing elevator doors.

_To Be Continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chasing Jack**

**Chapter Four**

The tension that had held every muscle in Ziva's body hostage for the last several hours dissolved away as the sensation of the plane leveling out arrived. They were finally in the air. It had taken some convoluted arranging to get a flight headed north. Brunswick Naval Air Base in Maine had closed recently and the next closest naval air station was south of Boston, a nearly three hour drive away.

Somehow Vance, who refused to agree to funding a commercial flight, had talked some official somewhere into letting the team hitch a ride on a flight going to Pease Air National Guard Base in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. They would have to drive the last sixty miles to Portland but not one of them would have complained about that detail.

At that thought Ziva shifted her gaze over towards Agent Moore. He was the newest and most junior member of the team but age wise he was two years older than Ziva. Often his quietness made him seem younger – sort of like a child who speaks only when spoken to directly. The gears in his mind were constantly churning around though. His eyes gave that away. She wondered what he thought about all this. Moore had never met Tony and had not been involved with The Wheel case at all. Now here they were racing off hundreds of miles to chase down a lead with a kind of desperation more than likely out of proportion with the value of the lead itself.

There had been so many dead ends – so many promising leads that had led nowhere other than to red hot frustration. Ziva, although grateful to be out of the office, was not investing a great amount of hope that this lead would result in much more.

She drew her gaze away from Moore and onto McGee across from her. He was in the midst of giving background information regarding the case. His voice was raised to overcome the noise of the plane and there was an intensity in his tone you rarely heard from him.

"The Wheel got started with good intentions. The families of those in the military and law enforcement agencies, mostly on the federal level, created a network for helping one another to find resources and lines of communication for issues that their families were dealing with as a result of their loved ones occupations. These were the spouses, parents, sons and daughters, significant others connecting with one another on commonly encountered issues. Perhaps they were having trouble receiving benefits they were entitled to or needed to see about financial assistance but didn't know where to start or needed help understanding paperwork or a program that was available or a similar issue. Those in the network used their individual skill sets and contacts and experiences to assist others in the group. So if one had experience dealing with health insurance benefits issues or another had a good contact in a military branch or federal agency these things could be used to assist other families experiencing difficulties in those areas. A good concept – linking family members of those in the military or federal law enforcement together to ease some of their common hurdles and help to make them not feel so alone in the process."

McGee paused and took in a deep breath before he continued. But the underlying tone of his voice had shifted and held an added trace of resentful tension as he spoke again.

"Unfortunately, this network that became known as _The Wheel_ developed a dark undercurrent. They took matters into their own hands when they felt their official resources in the military or law enforcement agencies were not doing enough. They began to solve the problems of the members in the network on their own in certain cases. And eventually the issues they dealt with grew to include those not even linked to the government. If a son was being bullied at school the problem was "handled" or if a wife was having financial troubles while their husband was overseas then the funds were "obtained". Now years later The Wheel is suspected in everything from kidnapping to money laundering to homicide."

"The Wheel has become nearly cult–ish. They have their own hierarchy and rules and language. Now many members of The Wheel, the spouse or parents or children of those working in the military and law enforcement, don't even let on to the loved one that they are intertwined with the group. They can be very discreet when they want to be. Early on everything was out in the open but somewhere along the line several individuals seized control and proceeded to twist its mission. Also some of the family members who were the ones in the military or law enforcement became involved. That's when The Wheel became an entirely different thing and began functioning under the radar. The key players are like the hub of a bicycle wheel – all decision making traffic and momentum goes out from this piece. The spokes of the wheel are the second layer of the hierarchy. They are the ones that handle the traffic in and out to the hub – they are the connection between the leaders and general members of the organization. These general members are the rim of the wheel – they are connected to the hub and at the same time they flow naturally into the other families that make up the rim. They are an unbroken circle of support."

"The origins of The Wheel – the very first organizers were several family members of naval personnel and the FBI who knew each other and decided it would be beneficial to share their experiences dealing with the government as loved ones of those in the military and federal law enforcement. Now it has grown to every branch of the military and every federal law enforcement agency and even some local and state emergency response departments. The Wheel is global. Even though it only makes up a fraction of military and law enforcement families their resources and reach is very wide."

Pausing again McGee swallowed down hard. The part that was rapidly approaching in his story was more than difficult to have to talk about especially on this day of all days. But after a beat he had clearly mustered up the resolve to plow forward.

"It became agreed that the only way to dismantle the organization was to identify those in the hub and take them down. One of the main agencies determined to do this was the FBI. Agent Tobias Fornell was assigned to head up the operation and to work at covertly bringing in other agencies that needed to be involved. Within NCIS Fornell drew upon Tony's undercover abilities, unbeknownst to the team Fornell recruited Tony to infiltrate The Wheel. Agent Fornell needed someone that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was not already involved with The Wheel. Tony's mission was to identify The Hub by becoming a one of the spokes. The only other person at our headquarters that knew was the Director. He simply gave his approval. The op was in Fornell's hands. The story Tony was supposed to have was that he a disgruntled federal agent who had seen one too many cases where the families of military members or law enforcement personnel had issues that demanded attention that their employers refused to do anything about. That he had seen one too many son or daughter or husband or wife suffering from not being taken care of as they should have when they requested help that they were told was supposed to be available to them. Tony's attitude was to be played along the line that he had gotten to the point where he believed taking matters into his own hands was what needed to be done. This perspective and Tony's position in federal law enforcement was very desirable to the leaders, The Hub. He had access to information and contacts and could operate under the radar. Over the course of many months he worked his way into The Wheel – after being tested with assignments and secretly trained he was put in place as a spoke inside The Wheel."

"And it worked. Tony was gathering crucial information – the identities of the leaders that made up The Hub and noting the weaknesses and habits that might become the key to making their downfall occur. But – something went wrong. Fornell believes that Tony's cover was blown but he had nothing more than educated guesses on how it happened or who exactly was the one that tipped The Hub off to Tony's true intentions. But The Wheel's leaders were either concerned enough about the intel that Tony had collected or vengeful enough that they acted upon it. And it resulted in …"

The thought went left unfinished when a voice came over the plane's communication system letting them know that they were starting their descent and to prepare for landing.

The rest of McGee's briefing, including the lead that was sending them northward, would have to wait until they were on the ground.

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The cool breeze of a New England autumn skimmed over the bare skin of Jack Cutter's face and neck. The chill carried in the air prompted him to tug the zipper of his jacket up higher offering a hint more protection against its bite. Like every other day he had parked his vehicle a few minute walk from his job. He preferred to distance himself from it in the event the vehicle was tracked but where he worked had not yet been discovered. Parking the charcoal colored Jeep Cherokee a couple blocks away instead of right in front of work would potentially give him a time buffer in which to react if someone came looking for him. Additionally, it provided the opportunity for him to check out the vehicle before reaching it to see if anyone was staking it out or possibly if it had been tampered with at all.

Now he was headed down the last half block of brick sidewalk which would lead him to work. It was only a job just like the long string of other low profile average pay positions he had held over the last few years. Occasionally he had missed having a career and not just jobs to get him by until he moved on to the next thing. He did his best at looking at the glass half full though.

He had held some fun jobs, some adventurous jobs, some very low stress jobs, and some rather entertaining jobs. He smiled faintly at recalling the last one. While living in Ann Arbor, Michigan he had worked at The Michigan, a near two thousand seat old restored historic theater that held both live performances and film screenings.

Perhaps it had been an ill advised choice given its link to his prior self but he had not been able to resist as he had wandered the streets of the college town and happened upon it. Somehow he had convinced himself that it benefited him in the event of the need for escape. The place was very large and rather dim in spots providing for cover and plentiful escape routes. He had been Nick Cabot then. Nick had spent endless hours in that old building even long after his shift had ended. After a while he had realized it had not just been the physical escape options which the job had offered that had lured him in. It had been something with much greater depth. Letting himself be drawn into the performances or films had let him escape in other ways. It had been a safe place like it had been from him as a child, blocking out the feelings of loneliness and fears of being easily forgettable. Immersed in the stories of the performances for the films all that melted away and he was included and brought along as part of their journey.

Even beyond that there had been a more immediate need in him. Over the previous months before moving to Ann Arbor he had been finding himself mentally slipping gears. He had found himself quite a few times forgetting if only momentarily that he wasn't really whatever name appeared on his driver's license at that particular moment. He would literally have to clear the confusion away with a shake of the head. Truth be told - these incidents had been terrifying. Was he losing his mind? Had he been pretending so long that it was simply easier to let go of the truth? What would happen if he did not recover from these moments one day and completely split with reality? Would he become his current identity and the other from so long ago would simply cease to exist?

Jack swallowed down hard as the thoughts rolled through his mind. The _what ifs_ had been nagging at him more and more as of late. With each passing day he seemed less and less able to chase them away. Wrestling with it had left him mentally exhausted and longing for some reprieve from it all.

He pushed out a heavy exhale in attempt to release some of the pent up tension currently gripping his chest. It helped but only slightly. Having arrived outside of work, a pub called _Traveler's_, he had no choice but to plaster on a happy go lucky smile, pull open the door, and head on inside.

This was his life now – no matter who he was or where it took him at least he would never lose that winning smile that had helped him weather many a rough patch.

"Jack!" the warm greeting rang out as he entered. He chuckled to himself. _Maybe he should have picked his name as Norm instead of Jack_ he thought as he stepped further inside and let the door close at his back.

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The sixty miles from Portsmouth to Portland had whizzed by in a blur of swerving, speeding, and silent prayers. The prayer had been pleading requests that they would actually arrive at their destination in one piece. Gibbs had scooped up the keys off the desk at the rental agency before McGee could get to them first in hopes of avoiding the swerving, speeding, and need for silent prayers from ever having to occur in the first place. He had been foiled by the service representative placing paperwork to be signed in his open hand just as he had reached for the keys. The second of delay was all it had taken for the team leader to make off with them and take up residence in the driver's seat.

Somewhere along northbound I-95, perhaps around the York, Maine toll booth when Gibbs barely slowed down to toss a few bills out the window Tim had realized how much the older agent's driving reminded him of his days at MIT. Massachusetts drivers had a special kind of driving style. It made him wonder if the Gibbs' family had once been from Massachusetts and it was somehow an inherited thing that Gibbs was pre-programmed to undertake. But mostly his mind was now rejoicing at the fact that they had finally come to a jolting halt in a parking spot outside their hotel.

"Are you coming McGee?" Ziva David's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Huh? What?" he asked.

"We have arrived at the hotel. You have been sitting there for three minutes now. Will you be joining us inside any time in the near future?" she inquired. Tim shifted his gaze out through the open passenger side window and up at where she stood beside the car. He opened his mouth to answer but Gibbs' voice interrupted his answer from ever materializing.

"He's with me!" the senior agent announced, slamming closed the trunk of the car and coming around to the passenger side of the vehicle. He held out a laptop bag and a backpack to Ziva and continued.

"You and Moore get us checked in and set up. Check in with Abby and Ducky."

"And what will the two of you be doing while we are doing the all this grunt work?" Ziva braved inquiring in reply.

"We're going to see about grabbing a bite. Aren't you starving David?"

"It takes two of you to get food enough for four? This I am not buying if even if I could use counterfeit bills to purchase it."

"Never said it was up for sale," the team lead responded and slipped back behind the wheel of the car.

"Want me to drive Boss?" Tim piped up and offered from the passenger seat. The sheer desperation in his voice drew a questioning glance at him from the team leader.

"I just thought…" the senior field agent began before Gibbs' expression caused him to stop mid sentence. The other man's glance was now a classic glare.

"I – I – ya know just thought maybe you - might be tired is all," Tim offered in an attempt to cover. The team lead didn't buy it but it did manage to release McGee as the focus of his attention.

"Nope. Could drive another sixty!" Gibbs announced closing the driver's side door and turning the key in the ignition.

"Good to know Boss!" Tim responded and gripped his fingertips tightly around the handle on the door. While Gibbs settled back in the driver's seat McGee looked out through the passenger side window at his teammate. Ziva turned on her heel in a mild huff and headed away from the car. She made the entrance to the hotel briskly and disappeared inside.

"Where are we going Boss?" Tim asked as they tore out of the parking lot and out onto the street.

"Like I said to grab a bite."

"Why do I get the feeling you don't mean a bite of the Chinese or Italian variety?"

"More like food for thought."

"Oh wait. I get it – a bite. We're checking out a lead. Grabbing a bite of intel."

"Welcome to the conversation McGee. Not everything in those papers from the alleyway was gibberish."

"Well, actually none of its gibberish. Just encrypted. The Wheel sure does have some outstanding coders in their ranks. Have to admire their s…" Tim stated before letting a glare from the team lead halt the rest of the thought. It was not until he stopped speaking that he realized he had been about to compliment The Wheel. A harsh beat of silence gripped the interior of the car before the younger man spoke up to relieve its torture.

"Abby and I are working on it but, unfortunately, they have shifted their techniques since we last had some code from them. It's like starting from scratch. So what part are we getting started with?"

"We're going to see what we can't get from those itineraries that weren't encrypted. How do you feel about ferries McGee?"

"Like they were right smack at the top of that itinerary list and underlined. We're going to the pier. Casco Bay Ferry Lines here we come!"

"What I tell you McGee? We're going to catch a bite."

"Any chance after the catch of the day we can grab a nice hot bite of pizza? Could really go for pepperoni Boss!" Tim asked. The more senior agent didn't respond immediately but his expression shifted. The seriousness faded away and a smile faintly tugged at his lips.

"How about pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese? I'm buying!"

"You're buying? Mark this day in the records books."

"Today is no ordinary day," the team lead stated quietly. The words were quiet but they sunk into the younger agent just the same.

Today of all days he had suggested pizza. Tony must still have his brain hijacked. He couldn't recall the last time he had a craving for pizza but right at the moment his stomach was practically begging him for it. His attention was drawn from the thought when he spotted a sign up ahead at the next corner that directed them to turn if they were headed for the ferry lines.

McGee braced his forearm against the armrest on the door as Gibbs steered their sedan into a tight left hand turn. They were in the downtown section of the city – a narrow strip of land set upon on a small peninsula that jutted out into the cold waters of the Casco Bay. The buildings, mostly older and containing businesses, were squeezed in side by side. The streets only had two lanes and could be called narrow at best. They reminded McGee of the older sections of Boston. Cars lined the sides of the streets. Each was parallel parked tightly bumper to bumper with the next leaving finding a free space a challenge.

"There's one!" McGee called out in a grateful excitement. If he had to endure several more streets worth of tight turns and swerving in order to find another one he knew queasiness would inevitably arrive.

Gibbs yanked the steering wheel in the direction of the empty space and somehow managed to parallel park the vehicle without ever having to shift into reverse or adjust angles.

The sedan jerked to a halt leaving less than two inches to spare between their vehicle and the next.

They had just narrowly avoided clipping the bumper of the charcoal gray Jeep Cherokee parked in the spot adjacent to their own.

_To Be Continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chasing Jack**

**Chapter Five**

Skimming his fingertips over the top page of the pile of papers which were set in his lap Tim McGee read the list of names and places. The papers were copies of the ones the hooded person he had chased had dropped before fleeing with his partner in that Volkswagon.

The majority of the pages contained coded information which he and Abby were still working to decipher. But the first couple in the pile had not been encrypted. The one he was looking at now contained names of what seemed to be persons of interest to The Wheel. Whether they were interested in them in a good or bad way was yet to be determined. They could be anything from potential recruits to those that were on the radar because they were interfering with the organization.

Some of the names had a line struck through them. What that possibly indicated Tim did not really want to think on too long given what The Wheel was capable of undertaking.

But the top portion of names on the page all had location details placing them in Portland. The very first one was Chris Bennett who by the information given was employed by Casco Bay Ferry Lines.

"What's the name McGee?" Gibbs questioned from his position in the driver's seat.

"Bennett. Chris Bennett," the younger man replied.

"It give anything more than that he works for the ferry lines?"

"Not much but does say he has brown hair, is slightly over six feet tall, and has green eyes."

"Better than what we had before. We'll find him. One of those people on that list knows something useful. We go one by one until we find that one McGee," the team leader replied as he opened the driver's side door and climbed out.

"Will do Boss!" McGee declared and departed the vehicle as well.

"Nice job parking Boss," Tim commented as he made his way around the back end of the charcoal gray colored Jeep Cherokee in the next spot to join Gibbs up on the sidewalk. Normally he would have just slipped between the bumper of their sedan and the bumper of the Jeep but Gibbs had only left a mere two inches separating the two vehicles. The driver of the Jeep had no idea how he had lucked out this day.

"Piece of cake!" the senior agent stated as they headed down the sidewalk in search of Chris Bennett and whatever it might be that he could provide them on The Wheel.

But their hopes didn't pan out. A half hour later found them walking back up the sidewalk to the car. Chris Bennett had not shown up for work that day – not even so much as phone call indicating why. His employer, or now former employer, hadn't been willing to provide a home address or phone number without a warrant and the papers McGee carried did not hold that information either. It would take a bit of research to garner those details.

"Dead end. At least for now," Tim commented as they arrived beside their rented sedan. Gibbs had been silent for most of their walk to and from the ferry lines. McGee could tell he was churning something over in his head that he didn't care to share quite yet. The younger man knew better than to ask. But it was clear that Leroy Jethro Gibbs was chewing on something his gut had clued him into but that he hadn't entirely pieced together yet.

"Should we go back to the hotel and see what Ziva and Moore got from Abby and Ducky?" McGee asked as he moved to stand at the passenger side door of the vehicle. Unfortunately, Gibbs still held the keys captive. A beat of silence passed then the team leader answered.

"One more. Then the hotel."

"Alright. Next up on the list is..." Tim replied as he pulled out the paper which he had taken from the pile and folded to put in his pocket.

"Jack Cutter. All we got on him is a place of employment. Traveler's Pub."

"And where exactly would that be McGee?"

"Uh. It's... let's see," the junior agent stammered as he pulled out his phone and searched for the street address. The paper had only listed its location as Portland.

"Any day now McGee."

"Got it! It's at 269 Fore Street which is a little bit of a walk from here but might be easier than finding another parking spot. And looks like Traveler's is a sole proprietorship owned by a Bruce Seavey."

"Better get a move on then!" Gibbs tossed back as he headed off down the sidewalk in the opposite direction that they had returned from the ferry terminal.

"How did he know it was that way?" McGee questioned to himself watching the team lead walk away and then looked down at the map on his phone. Gibbs had headed in the correct direction despite that they had three choices. Their vehicle was parked across from a street that dead ended into the one they were parked on. There was the direction the ferry lines was located in. And, lastly, the direction which the boss had headed off towards. Out of the three he had immediately picked the right one.

"Must have used his gut," Tim murmured to himself.

"Planning on joining me McGee or am I flying solo here?" The senior agent called out to him without even stopping or looking back.

"Right behind ya Boss!" he called back and headed off at a jog to catch up. Hopefully, the second name on the list wouldn't turn out like the last one.

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Traveler's Pub stood midway down the block. The brick structure was slightly older but well maintained. The sign over the doorway offered up the name of the establishment in green stylishly painted cursive letters against a beige background. It was also well kept and gave the sense that the owner put some pride in the place.

Tim dropped his gaze down from the exterior of the building as they reached the front entryway. He trailed Gibbs through the doorway and into the dimly lit interior.

"Sorry guys we're not quite open yet!" the short heavy set man behind the bar called out as they entered.

"Not here to socialize!" Gibbs replied. His gaze scanned the room as he made his way towards the front of the bar.

"Sure you're in the right place then?" the man responded. A smirk teased at his lips.

"Yep," Gibbs replied matter of factly as he arrived at the counter.

"Alright I'm game. What can I do for you?" the man stated and set the thick stack of receipts he had been sifting through down on the counter-top.

"Well, Bruce, we really only have one question," Gibbs stated firmly.

"How exactly do you know my name?" Bruce inquired. His posture stiffened and his body weight shifted away from them. Clearly he perceived them as nothing but trouble.

"We're federal agents. Naval Criminal Investigative Service," McGee responded and offered up his credentials.

"Feds? For the navy? This place ain't seen a sailor in several decades. Now I know you got the wrong joint."

"See that's where you're wrong," Gibbs commented back.

"How's that, Agent…?"

"Gibbs and McGee."

"Well see Bruce we're looking for Jack," the senior agent informed him.

"Jack? _Jack Cutter_?" the pub owner questioned in confusion.

"That would be the one."

"What do you want with him?"

"That's between us and Jack!" Gibbs tossed back firmly.

The man behind the counter was still and silent for a moment as if pondering how he was going to play his answer. After a collection of seconds had ticked by and the bar owner didn't seem to be coming up with anything worth pursuing the other two men decided that his time was up.

"We know he works here!" McGee interjected in a definite tone – hedging on that their information was good. Bruce's shoulders drooped down a bit as he realized they already knew for sure and weren't just fishing around for confirmation. But he remained silent.

"Is he working today?" McGee nearly demanded.

"Let me check the schedule," Bruce responded and began moving towards the doorway that separated the pub area from the back room. Gibbs stepped in front of him as he reached the end of the counter.

"I get the impression you know exactly whether or not he's working," Gibbs stated. The no nonsense tone it was delivered in clearly instructed Bruce that he better begin cooperating right quick.

"Alright fine! Yes. I know whether or not Jack is working today!" Bruce responded in a raised voice. The sudden shift in the man's volume did not go unnoticed. Gibbs glanced from the man to McGee and back. The younger agent had caught it as well. Jack Cutter was already at work. He was in the back room and his boss had just tried to alert him to their presence. Whether it had worked or not was impossible to tell.

"Move out from behind that counter and you can add being arrested for interfering with a federal investigation to your list of accomplishments," Gibbs warned.

"Anybody back there with him?" Gibbs continued.

"No. Just him," Bruce answered defeatedly.

"Don't you move! Got it?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I got it."

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He was literally a Jack of all trades around the place. He let out a soft chuckle at the thought. A heavy sigh trailed right behind it though as his mind clicked back into proper gear. He wasn't Jack Cutter. _This Jack Cutter was not a real person _ he corrected himself. A familiar stream of anxiety which had become his frequent companion as of late began flowing through him once again.

"I'm Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," he reminded himself. The words were said under his breath so faintly they ended up mouthed rather than spoken. The volume of his voice didn't matter though. The words were intended for his ears only. The fact that it had come to having to remind himself aloud of his true identity was beginning to wreak havoc on his nerves.

He moved to the area of the pub's backroom near the office. He went to the shelves against the wall and began sorting through them taking inventory. Once he had surveyed the ones in the front of the first shelf he took down the boxes and set them on the floor next to the open doorway leading into the office so that he could get to the ones behind them in the back.

As he straightened up from placing the last box down he caught something out of place inside the office. It drew his attention enough that he stepped inside the adjoining room to get a closer look at the security camera monitor on the shelf above the office desk.

When he had first started working there the security camera equipment had just been sitting unused in a box. The pub's owner, Bruce, told him that he had thought it was a good idea to have it but once he had gotten the stuff back to the pub he discovered he was clueless about how to set it up and make it all work properly.

Tony had seized the opportunity and offered to do it for him. He set up the cameras and the monitors and even laid out the recording equipment. The cameras worked just fine now but the recording equipment was another story. Despite having set it up and even plugging it in to the power outlet he had deliberately neglected to actually connect the cameras and monitors to the recorder. It was the perfect set up because the monitors would allow Tony to know what and, more importantly, who was out in the pub by checking the monitors before he went out there. But the fact nothing was being recorded was his protection.

Bruce never touched the equipment. If there was ever a problem he asked Tony, or as the case may be Jack, to deal with it. The fact that the lights on the recorder were lit up seemed to be satisfactory to the pub owner. For which Tony was grateful. The old man despite not being the brightest crayon in the box was a decent guy and had been more than fair to him.

Now Tony stood staring at the monitor that showed the area of the pub near the bar.

"Can't be!" he declared in a low disbelieving voice. He had truly and finally gone over the edge and was now seeing things. What he was seeing on the screen couldn't be real. He was imagining it. His nerves were finally getting to him. That was the only explanation.

Tony clamped his eyelids shut and let a handful of racing heartbeats pass by before peeking open first one eye then the other. He must really be losing his mind. But when he reopened them he saw the same image on the screen before his eyes.

The pub's owner, Bruce, was standing at the bar looking rather nervous. Across the bar from him stood two men he had not set eyes upon in four long years. Reality struck him hard. His chest tightened instantly. His thoughts swirled chaotically in his head.

_Gibbs and McGee were in the next room!_

The image stole the breath from his lungs momentarily.

Once the air returned to his body he was assaulted with that deep ache he had experienced a lot over the last few years. He wanted so badly to simply cross the room, open the door, and walk out into the pub to be reunited with them. He was tired and longed to rest and be himself – if he even remembered who that was anymore.

It popped into his thoughts that there was a slight possibility that they were there about something else unrelated to him. For some strange reason that sent sadness cascading through him. Then he thought better of his idea.

"Yeah right! Not much chance of that," he muttered quietly. What would be the odds they were there about something other than The Wheel case? Slim to none.

The realization seemed to unlock something in him. Logic and reality seized him back from his mental wanderings. Gibbs and McGee were within feet and seconds of discovering him. And if they did it would put their lives in jeopardy. The ache and the tug in his heart to go to them ran deep but the mere thought of something happening to his team was stronger. It won out and he knew what he had to do next.

_Run!_

He moved quickly to the front of the desk. Snatching a key from its hiding place he opened the bottom drawer in the desk and pulled out the petty cash lockbox. Moving as rapidly as possible he unlocked the box and counted out what would amount to the paycheck he would have received the following day.

Not bothering to even close the lid to the box Tony moved back towards the office doorway and grabbed his dark blue hoodie from the hook there. As he bolted at a run towards the back doorway of the building he stuffed the cash in his pocket and then struggled into the jacket just as he reached the door.

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Gibbs moved into position at the side of the doorway near the end of the bar. Tim quickly got into place on the other side. Both drew their weapons in preparation for whatever going through the doorway into the backroom of the pub might bring. After a beat of silence and a deep inhale and exhale Gibbs gave the nod to his partner that set them in motion.

They burst through the double swinging doors into the dimly lit storeroom.

"Federal agents! Jack Cutter show yourself!" the team leader called out commandingly.

Immediately their attentions were drawn to the open doorway on the opposite end of the expansive room. They only got a fleeting glimpse of the tall hooded figure as it fled through the back door of the storeroom and into the alleyway beyond.

"I'll come around from the front in case he circles back!" Gibbs called out as he dashed at a run back through the swinging doors towards the front entrance.

"Got it!" McGee called back as he bolted out through the back doorway into the alley behind the pub. He immediately spotted the tall hooded figure running along the narrow alley between the buildings up ahead of him. The man had a head start on him but was certainly still within earshot.

"Jack Cutter! Federal agent! Stop!" Tim cried out as he raced down the alley giving chase with all he had in him.

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Tony knew that voice. It had four long years since he last heard it. But his probie's cry of _Federal agent!_ had been unmistakable. There was no reason to look back to confirm it. And by the sounds of it Tony needed to pick up the pace because the gap between them was too close for comfort.

_Oh how he wished he could just stop running!...And go home._

But he knew it couldn't be. So his mind forced his legs to move faster even though his heart tried to sabotage his escape. All his heart wanted to do was stop.

"Federal agent! I said stop!" he heard McGee's voice call out behind him. The cry was winded and Tony prayed the other man was tiring. Tony thought he may have the advantage since for the last four years he had been preparing himself physically to be on the move constantly and ready at any second to flee for his life.

Now nearly three quarters of the way down the long narrow alleyway his next obstacle arrived. Tony didn't even break stride as he grabbed onto the wire on the fence in front of him and hoisted himself up onto it.

Climbing the fence must have slowed him just enough because suddenly his progress jerked to a halt. McGee's arms had grabbed hold of his left leg and yanked him to a stop.

McGee had him in a vice grip by the cloth of his jeans and the lower portion of his leg. Tony struggled to free himself from his ex-partner's hold but all he recovered was scarcely more than an inch. McGee had him trapped halfway over the top of the fence. He either needed to get loose and down over the other side or McGee would eventually pull him down using the leverage and advantage of being firmly planted on the ground.

Then there was the whole thing where McGee had a gun. The leg which McGee held captive was the same one on which Tony's own weapon was secured. If the agent discovered it in the midst of their struggle things could turn south fast. That could end badly - for both of them. He was left with little choice.

He was proud of Tim for doing such a good job of chasing him down and now once he had him refusing to let him go. But at the same time this was too close for comfort. He could feel his chest tighten and his heart pound in a near panic. He couldn't be discovered.

"_Ma vaffanculo_!" Tony ground out frustratedly in Italian as McGee tugged furiously at his leg to try to bring him back over to his side of the fence. The younger man was determined and also apparently had been visiting the gym more frequently. If this kept up much longer Tim just might succeed in pulling one of the joints in his leg out of its proper place.

Tony resigned himself to what had to be done.

Just for an instant he looked downward back through the wire of the chained link fence at the other man to see just exactly how he was positioned. Fortunately, McGee had his eyes cast ahead instead of upward as he focused his strength at removing his prisoner from the top of the fence so he did not catch the slight glimpse he may have otherwise gotten of the other man's face.

Tony bit down on his lower lip and looked away as if those actions would somehow buffer the painful reality of what he was about to do to his friend. Then he drew up his free leg high enough so it cleared the agent's head. With as much directed control as he could manage in his current position, slung over the fence at the waist, he slammed his boot down squarely into Tim's face. Tony could hear the sharpness of the impact as well as the distinct sound of bone breaking and tearing cartilage. Tim cried out in pain and loosened his grip. Immediately realizing what he had done the agent scrambled to regain his hold on his attacker's leg. But his prisoner had already pulled it out of his reach.

Tony scrambled over the top of the fence and dropped to the ground below. He was in a flat out run before both feet had even completely hit the ground. He did not look back for even an instant. He couldn't and he didn't particularly care to either. He couldn't because if he turned Tim might recognize him and even more intensely he didn't want to see the damage he had done to Tim's face with the hard work boot and the force he had no choice but to apply it with in order to ensure his escape.

The slight solace he had was that it was better that his friend have a broken nose or broken jaw than be lying stone cold dead somewhere because he was means to an end for the bad guys. The Wheel would not hesitate to eliminate anyone they saw as an obstacle or threat.

"Sorry Tim!" Tony apologized under his breath as he made the corner and took off down the adjoining street.

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Senior Field Agent Tim McGee made an attempt to scale the fence as the other man raced down the alleyway on the opposite side. But part way up lightheaded-ness seized him. He stopped and curled his fingertips more tightly around the cold wire of the fence to steady himself and in the hopes maybe it would pass. But instead it only intensified.

Nausea surged through him and his vision, what little there was left of it through the blood on his face, was failing him. As his vision drifted back and forth from normal to double and back again he watched the dim blurry figure of Jack Cutter disappear around the corner.

Then the rest of the world dimmed before his eyes and he could no longer hold the fence. Tim struggled to climb back down but his mind seemed disconnected from his muscles and the wire slipped from his fingertips. The sensation of falling backwards came but consciousness departed him before the impact with the ground arrived.

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Gibbs rounded the corner and raced down the long narrow alleyway between the buildings. He was halfway along when the view of the end of the alley came into sight. Then his legs simply would not move as fast as his head and heart insisted they must carry him.

His Senior Field Agent lay motionless on the ground up ahead. Blood covered his facial features. Streams of the red life giving fluid flowed over his cheeks and dripped onto the concrete beside his body.

"McGee!" His voice was thick with strain, urgency. Uncharacteristically a sliver of fear, of dread, had slipped out somehow from the steel cage surrounding his emotions. Just for an instant there when he had first seen his agent sprawled out on the cold concrete his mind had slipped out of gear and what he saw was another senior field agent lying motionless on the ground. The image of Tony instead of Tim lying there had flashed vividly inside his head for an instant and terror tore through him. He couldn't go through that again. He couldn't lose another.

Actually he had never really finished going through it. He missed Tony every damn day. He was not sure that the road of that particular loss would ever smooth or come to an end. It would relentlessly make him ache. It would always be unforgiving and raw. It would always haunt him. It would be thoroughly and forever…._wrong_.

"Tim," he whispered as he dropped to his knees beside the younger man. He frantically checked for breathing and a pulse. Finding both he let out a breath and felt the muscles in his chest loosen up a fraction. Standing, he visually scanned the area but Tim's attacker had vanished. His chest tightened once again but this time because it was dense with fury.

"I will find you Jack Cutter! Do you hear me?" Gibbs screamed out up at the sky then delivered a swift kick to the chain link fence. A beat followed in which he silently fumed and then he gave an even more enraged blow to a nearby dumpster. The harsh impact of the boot into the metal echoed off the buildings and hung in the air for a moment. Having taken the edge off his frustration he returned to his agent's side.

"T…To…Tony," McGee struggled to get out in confused semi consciousness. The senior agent could tell by the unfocused state of the young man's eyes he wasn't quite with it yet.

"Hey! No. It's Gibbs."

"Boss?" Tim mumbled and began to shift around like he was going to try to sit up.

"Whoa there! Now take it easy."

"I had him Gibbs. He started over the fence but I caught up to him. He was half way over and I grabbed his leg. If I had just…," Tim explained but his words trailed off as his voice took on a defeated tone.

"Just what?"

"Not let go. He kicked me in the face."

"Yeah. I can see that," Gibbs stated.

"I'm sorry Boss!"

"You know the rule."

"Yeah I know. No apologies. I just - never mind."

"Go on."

"No, Boss, I…"

"_McGee!_"

"I was going to say…if it had been Tony the guy would be in handcuffs right now."

"Yeah, well, we've all had our moments even him."

The fact that Gibbs chose not to use Tony's name did not go unnoticed by the younger agent. In fact he suddenly realized as he lay on the rough cold pavement that he couldn't recall Gibbs using DiNozzo's name much if at all over the last few years. That couldn't be right? Could it?

Maybe it was the blow to the head scrambling his memory. He searched through his memories, discovering that it wasn't that Gibbs didn't talk about Tony but rather that often the conversation was already in full swing amongst the rest of them and Gibbs participated but seemed to be able to make you know exactly who he was talking about without use of a name.

For an instant the warm memory of the team seated together over a recent dinner at a restaurant sharing memories of all the escapades of their friend washed away the physical pain he was in. So many stories – so much light lost to their little family.

"Come on. Let's get you to a hospital!" the more senior agent stated, tearing him from his thoughts.

"I think he broke my nose!" McGee grumbled out as Gibbs took him by the arm to begin the process of getting him up off the ground. His boss smirked before his face shifted to seriousness once again. Then he responded.

"Yep. And he'll be sporting one just like it when I catch him."

"I appreciate that Boss. But I'd really love to do those honors."

Gibbs grinned. He would love to see that. The younger man had really come a long way. McGee had toughened up yet his individuality had not been compromised along the way.

The team leader's grin fell again.

It had been Tony for the most part that had molded, rather cleverly he might add, Tim into the agent that stood, albeit currently rather unsteadily, before him now. Tony had been a fantastic teacher without anyone ever knowing he was one. Some of the best teachers were the ones who could teach without their student ever even realizing they were being taught. And Tony had been one of those.

"Oh we'll be seeing Jack Cutter again. And I have a prediction about it," Gibbs told the more junior agent.

"What's that Boss?"

"The encounter won't be pleasant for him."

"Works for me!"

"Glad to hear it."

"Hey boss!"

"Yeah."

"There's only one of you, right?"

"Uh huh."

"That offer for a ride to the hospital still good?"

"Double vision?"

"Triple."

"Hospital express now departing!" the senior agent announced. Taking Tim by the arm to steady him the pair headed back down the alleyway. The twist of the head that the junior agent made to peer back towards the fence did not go unnoticed by the other man. So the team lead offered a few reassuring words.

"We'll get him McGee. Jack Cutter can't out run me. He's mine!"

_To Be Continued..._

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_Coming up..._

_Are Gibbs & Co. the only ones on Tony's trail? Or is The Wheel not far behind either? Plus..._

_Is there anyone Tony can turn to for help? Or is he completely alone on the run?_

_Stay tuned for the answers!_

_Thanks so much for reading._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chasing Jack**

**Chapter Six**

Twilight did not linger for long on October days. And by the time Gibbs and McGee had made it back to the parking lot of the hotel night had descended on the city. The streetlights clicked on just as the team leader climbed out of the driver's side of their rented sedan and pushed the door closed. His senior field agent was moving quite a bit more slowly but had opened the door on the other side of the vehicle and was working on getting out. Gibbs waited him out in silence. Given the blow to the head the younger man had received McGee was holding his own.

After a few seconds Tim was standing beside the car, one hand pressing an ice pack to his face and the other grasping on to the top of the open passenger side door.

"You good?" Gibbs asked breaking the silence between them. By the look of him it was questionable if the other agent could make it to their rooms unassisted.

"I'm good. Unless of course you're asking about the newly acquired coloring of my face. Or how I feel about the taped up nose look. Then that's a different story."

"Don't care how you look McGee. Care about if you are going to make it inside without keeling over."

"Oh. Then, yeah, I'm good."

"In that case get a move on. Need to check in at the desk. Get our room numbers."

"Oh Boss. Ziva texted me the rooms earlier. You're in 334. Moore and I are in 332. And Ziva's got 330. So all right next one another."

The team leader simply nodded his understanding and they headed towards the building. A few minutes later Gibbs was delivering a rap of the fist on the door of the room which McGee would share with Moore. After a second more hefty bang on the door Moore answered and held the door opened while first Gibbs then McGee entered the room.

"Whoa! What the hell happened to you?" Moore asked as Tim passed him by. He then closed the door and trailed them into the interior of the room. His comment drew the attention of Ziva who was seated in front of a laptop at the small table by the window. She looked up from the computer at the pair who had just arrived.

"Okay, this did not happen getting our dinner. And you were gone far too long for that anyway. We gave up on that long ago and ordered delivery. You were following a lead. Weren't you?" she questioned as she rose from her seat.

"Looks like it lead to _something_ alright," Moore added taking a second glance towards McGee.

"Yep!" the team leader answered her.

"Then why were we left here to tuttle our thumbs?"

"Twiddle your thumbs. Not tuttle," McGee mumbled wearily. His comment drew Gibbs' attention towards him.

"You. Lie down before you fall over."

"Right Boss," Tim replied and promptly collapsed onto the nearest bed.

"You did not answer my question Gibbs," Ziva pressed.

"Because I didn't leave you here so you could twiddle your thumbs. I left you here so you could get in touch with Abby and Ducky to see what they found. Which you better have done unless you were looking to be unemployed."

"Yes. We have done this," she responded quietly. But the frustration had not dissolved completely from her voice.

"Look at that. Employed for another day David!" Gibbs declared then took up a seat on the end of the bed across from the one McGee occupied. His action prompted the senior field agent to stir. Seeing that it looked like Tim might try to sit up he reinforced his early command.

"Stay put!" the team lead grumbled in his direction.

"Staying put," McGee confirmed and let his body relax back into the pillows.

"So you never answered my question," Moore piped up from his position standing at the foot of Tim's bed.

"Uh. That's because I forgot what it was," Tim confessed.

"What the hell happened?" Moore reminded him.

"Bastard named Jack Cutter happened."

"What did he do to earn the title."

"Ran from us. Then after I caught him he kicked me in the face. Very hard."

"Then I agree with your assessment."

"My assessment?"

"Yeah. He really is a bastard."

"Are you alright McGee?" Ziva asked.

"Well that depends."

"On what?"

"Is anyone else hearing voices?"

"Voices?" Moore questioned.

"Yeah. Like there are other people in the room besides us that are talking."

"Oh no," Ziva stated as realization hit her. She rapidly moved back around to the other side of the table where she had been seated earlier.

"I am so sorry!" she said speaking to the screen of the laptop. She picked up the computer and turned it around to face the others which revealed that the webcam window was opened and they were connected to Abby and Ducky who were both in the forensic scientist's lab. Before setting it back down on the table Ziva hit the button on the keyboard that would increase the audio volume on it.

"We were calling for you Ziva," Abby responded.

"I apologize. Gibbs and McGee returned and I got up to speak with them. I had the volume on the laptop turned down on low when we were speaking earlier. I did not hear you calling my attention."

"I feel so forgotten," Abby said more to Ducky who stood beside her than to the group.

"It was not intentional Abigail. She was merely distracted momentarily," the medical examiner soothed her.

"Well, I guess that makes sense. Okay. But it better not happen again."

"Cross my heart!" Ziva replied.

"That's okay we couldn't hear you either. Well, we could hear talking but not what was being said. So I guess we're even."

"Seems fair Abby!" Ziva declared.

"Hello everyone. This is so cool it's like we're there with you guys. Of course, we're not but the webcam makes it feel that way. Like we're closer than we really are,"Abby commented in a rambling observation.

"I think what Abigail is trying to say is that it is good to see that you have arrived safely," Ducky said with a soft smile. The comment though prompted Moore to glance at McGee to check in on him and it did not go unnoticed by the forensic's expert.

"Sleeping on the job McGee. I see you hiding over there behind Gibbs. Your legs are sticking out on the bed from behind him," she teased.

"Sleep. Wouldn't that be fantastic!" Tim replied sitting up. He leaned forward so that Gibbs who was seated on the neighboring bed no longer blocked his line of sight to the laptop.

"Oh my god Timmy!" Abby exclaimed. Then she clamped both hands over her mouth in shock at the sight of the swollen and bruised state of his face.

"What on earth happened?" Ducky quickly jumped in with afterward. Gibbs explained in his frugal way with words.

"Foot chase. Broken nose. Concussion. Visit to the ER."

"My goodness, Timothy, are you quite alright?" Ducky inquired with concern. Before the senior field agent could even begin to reply Abby spoke up.

"Oh McGee. If my arms reached that far I would give you one of my extra strength hugs."

"I'm alright guys," Tim responded then in a much quieter voice added, "Nothing catching Jack Cutter can't help me get over."

"As soon as you get back I am giving you that hug. Maybe even a double dose!" Abby offered him.

"And if Abigail's medicine doesn't do the trick then I'll be more than happy to take a look at you," Ducky added.

"Thanks guys. Truth is what would really make me feel better is giving that bastard what he has coming," McGee stated determinedly. There was a silent beat of agreement from the others then Gibbs redirected the conversation.

"Whatcha got for me Ducky?" he questioned.

"Well, I have only just had the time for a once over. It really is amazing how you notice more and more over the course of..."

"Today Duck!"

"Alright then. We'll be on with it. My guest, former Navy corpsman Davis, died from drowning."

"He drowned? In his apartment?" Ziva inquired a bit confused.

"There was water in his lungs. In fact quite a bit of it. As for your question Ziva I couldn't offer that answer yet. They may have agreed to let us have the body but they certainly were not swift in actually giving it to us. Therefore, I have had very little time to visit with Mr. Davis."

"But is it possible? That it happened there in the apartment?" Gibbs questioned.

"Certainly. Bath tub would have been the easiest. But there are other ways."

"Where was he found?"

"Kitchen!" Abby piped in with the answer.

"So was he murdered or not?"

"I am sorry Jethro. We simply have not had the body and the evidence long enough to determine that."

"Hypothetical Duck."

"It's possible. If he was placed in the bath tub and the level of water raised over his head. Then he was held beneath the surface."

"If someone held him down there would have been a struggle unless he was unconscious at the time. Any indicators he fought back?"

"Not thus far. But it wouldn't have done much good. He was at a serious disadvantage."

"What's that mean Duck?"

"If the submersion hadn't killed him the cancer would have eventually done the job. His bad health would have weakened him considerably. He could have fought but not for long."

"Cancer?"

"Yes. And it was rather progressed I am afraid. Even if he was seeking treatment he most likely was not long for this world."

"_If_ he was seeking treatment?"

"I have only had the body for a short time Jethro. I work efficiently but sadly not that quickly. I'll know more perhaps tomorrow upon further review."

"What else?"

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs! The Duckman found something way cool," Abby said excitedly.

"Well, to be honest it was Mr. Palmer who detected something amiss," the medical examiner corrected her.

"Sorry. You did say it was Jimmy. It's just so weird and cool I might have gotten carried away."

"Now you have me curious Abby. What is this thing?" Ziva inquired.

"This baby right here!" Abby announced and held up a small odd shaped item in her gloved hand.

"A piece of plastic. I do not not understand why this has you so excited," Ziva stated in confused reaction.

"Ah! But it is not any ordinary piece of plastic. At least I don't think it is," Abby replied visually inspecting the item in her hand.

"Wait. Abby. I thought you said Ducky found it. Where was it?" Tim jumped in to ask.

"Oh McGee. I can always count on you to ask such excellent questions."

"So what's the answer?" he questioned. Ducky responded.

"While photographing a tattoo that Mr. Davis had decorating his arm Mr. Palmer noticed that there was a scar hidden on the skin beneath the area of the tattoo – masked by the ink. Upon inspecting the area I could tell that there was an object underneath the skin. We then took an x-ray to ensure it didn't appear to be anything dangerous. Which did not appear to be the case. We extracted this piece of medical grade plastic which was surgically implanted in the man's arm."

"What's so special about it besides the fact he was wearing it as an implant?" Moore asked.

"Another great question. Geez! You guys are on a roll tonight!" the forensics expert declared.

"Abs!" Gibbs snapped. His patience was wearing a bit thin at this point.

"I was getting there."

"A little faster."

"Right. So this piece of medical grade plastic has all these raised bumps on it. Bumps that are different shapes, sizes, and groupings. Plus it's tinted different colors in different places. The bumps though - it's almost like some kind of braille or something."

"Is it?"

"Nope. Not braille. I checked."

"Any ideas on what the bumps might be?"

"Still working on it Gibbs. There is something else interesting about it. As you can see it's sides are not straight lines. It's not a specific shape kind of the way a jigsaw puzzle piece would be odd shaped. And there are little indentations or notches here and there on the edges of it as if it was meant to fit together with something else. Pretty cool huh?" the forensic expert commented. It was McGee who spoke up in reply.

"It is pretty cool Abby. But since Devon Davis was high up in The Wheel – at least according to Fornell's intel it's really more weird and creepy. Can you send me a close up picture of it? We can't really make out the detail over the webcam," he requested. However, the end part was delivered inside a yawn he couldn't manage to hold back.

"Already done. Along with all the evidence logs and crime scene photos. Check your email," she replied.

Gibbs glanced around at his team. Over the webcam he could see that Ducky had taken to leaning his forearms on the table in front of him. He looked to be fighting off drowsiness. Abby was still lively but given her sky high level of Caf Pow consumption that wasn't a surprise. Moore was leaned against the wall and his head was drooped down as if it was too heavy to hold up much longer. McGee just looked like crap. And even Ziva looked weary around the edges. He wanted to push forward on the reports from Ducky and Abby but it just wasn't going to happen tonight. So he called it.

"Alright enough for tonight. We're all beat. Everybody hit the rack. Rest up you're going to need it."

"But Gibbs we have more!" Abby stated eagerly.

"It'll hold til morning. Go home Abby. You too Duck."

"Just a little while longer. Please Gibbs," Abby pleaded.

"Not tonight. Duck, you make sure she leaves."

"Will do Jethro! Goodnight all!"

"Bye guys!" Abby said and waved farewell at them through the web camera. The webcam window on the laptop went dark. There was a silent tired moment in the hotel room.

"What I said about hitting the rack was not a _suggestion_," Gibbs finally announced then rose from his seat on the end of the bed. He took the key card for room 334 from the pile lying on the table and snagged a slice of pizza from the box that stood open beside the cards. He then headed off to the solitude of his own room.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Portland Police Detective Daniel St. Clair cut the engine of the unmarked Ford police car he was seated in and looked out through the windshield at the dimly lit street up ahead. He had just come from paying a visit to Traveler's Pub. The visit had not been a social one but instead it had been an assignment. However, not an assignment from his boss down at the police department. This assignment had come from his other boss, the one within The Wheel.

He had become involved with the organization years prior when his little brother had been badly wounded while on his very first tour of duty in Afghanistan. When Drew had come home he needed serious help, both medical and psychological, and his recovery rapidly became bogged down by red tape.

Daniel had been approached by Drew's roommate at the rehab facility, an Army sergeant who had also been injured in Afghanistan. He offered to connect Daniel up to an outfit that could help clear the way and get Drew the help he so desperately needed. That organization had been The Wheel and they had done right by he and his brother. Now some years later the police detective was actively involved in protecting its mission so it could do for others what it had done from them.

St. Clair had been instructed to quietly check out one of the pub's employees. A man named Jack Cutter. He had been directed not to make any contact or draw a lot of attention to himself if possible. And that he would be rewarded additional compensation if he managed to capture a quality photo of Cutter.

Unfortunately, by the time he had arrived at Traveler's and buddied up to the owner two feds had already been there and chased Cutter off. The owner, Bruce Seavey, didn't expect him back since the man had taken off in the middle of a shift with two navy cops on his tail.

Not to mention Cutter had taken some cash as he had hightailed it out the back door. But that was not an issue with the owner since it had been the same amount as the paycheck he was due the next day anyway. From what St. Clair gathered that was not unusual. Seavey had not straight out admitted to it but it was pretty clear that Cutter was paid under the table and didn't appear in any of the business' books.

Daniel wasn't sure exactly why his boss wanted information and photos of this Cutter guy. But he had learned to take the assignments as offered and not press too hard.

He suspected that it might have something to do with the Scout Order that had been issued throughout The Wheel quite a few months prior. The Scout Order, The Wheel's equivalent to law enforcement's BOLO, had been issued nationwide and was earmarked as high priority. The Hub, the leadership core of the organization, was looking for someone with a vengeance. St. Clair suspected that the Scout Order and his assignment were linked.

After discovering Cutter had fled Daniel continued to chat up the pub owner and found out where Jack Cutter lived. He was now parked down the block from the white building on the corner of Morning Street which Seavey had described. He had not known the street number.

Given his suspicions that his assigned visit to Traveler's and the high priority Scout Order were connected he decided it was best to contact his boss who was one of the Hub leaders for further instructions before proceeding into Cutter's residence.

He pulled his cell phone out and made the call to his superior.

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Billy Greene set his phone down on the table in front of him. Danny St. Clair had reported in on his assignment and the update had been very interesting. He had instructed St. Clair to check out Cutter's apartment to collect any identifying information he might come across. And also that if Jack Cutter happen to return home while he was there he was to detain him and call for further orders.

As Billy reviewed the detective's story inside his head he rose from his chair and wandered towards the window. His gaze skimmed over the lights of Boston as he evaluated the situation.

It had all started a while back when one of the Spokes who were kind of like middle management in The Wheel had alerted him and the other leaders to a potential problem. The Spoke, Elliot Thompson, lived out in Denver and had reported that one day while out on a jog he had seen a man who strongly resembled the NCIS agent that had, a few years back, infiltrated The Wheel.

Normally, the report might not have held much weight especially considering Anthony DiNozzo had supposedly been killed at the organization's command. What had given the sighting credibility was the fact that before being a resident of Denver Thompson lived in Virginia. He had met DiNozzo several times when the agent was a Spoke himself and still in the good graces of The Wheel. And, therefore, it had been decided that more intel and follow up was necessary.

While the leaders made use of favors owed them by some of the most powerful people in the country in an effort to gather intel a Scout Order was put out organization wide. The order described the man they were looking to locate and gave the directive to not alert their target he had been noticed. It also noted that the man may have altered his appearance and be using an alias.

At first there were very few reports coming in regarding the order. But more recently after a string of many months the sightings had picked up in number. A list had been compiled and as it was added to one particular location began to stand out – the city of Portland, Maine. There was a considerable presence in the region due to the fact that there used to be a naval base less than hour north of the city. Of the branches of the military the Navy was the most well represented one inside The Wheel so the location of the base meant more eyes on the lookout.

Greene clenched his hands into fists. The major screw up of those two newbies down in Virginia meant that NCIS and, more significantly, Agent Gibbs now had possession of a copy of the list of the people who could possibly be a very much alive Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. All those two rookies had to do was go to Devon's apartment and retrieve some documents that were hidden in a hollowed out shelf in a bookcase. But they had managed to mess it up royally by first being witnessed by Gibbs and his second in command and then by losing the documents to them. The pair was lucky they were closely related to one of senior leaders or it would have been much worse on them in the aftermath.

He relaxed his hands as a thought occurred to him. Perhaps something good could come of it. Their research on Leroy Jethro Gibbs revealed that the man was like a bull in a china shop when he set out on a mission he took personally. With the list in hand the NCIS agent just might do the legwork for them. And, unknowingly, he could lead them directly to DiNozzo if he really was alive.

Then Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo would be acquired and subsequently interrogated to see what information he had provided to those not in line with the organization's interests.

Once that was completed the agent would be disposed of for real this time. He would be made an example to others that false loyalties, secret agendas, and malicious intentions would not be tolerated by The Wheel.

"I must alert the others," Greene stated quietly as he retrieved his phone from the table.

If Anthony DiNozzo was alive he wouldn't continue to be that way for long.

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Even from a distance Tony could tell that the dark colored Ford parked up the block a ways was an unmarked police vehicle. There was someone seated in the driver's seat. However, the street was too dimly lit to make out any details of the person.

Remaining in the shadows between two houses he shifted his gaze from the car to the building on the corner. He had known that coming back to his apartment to grab a few things might not pan out but he had to try. Clearly it wasn't going to happen.

He had already staked out his Jeep for a bit on the off chance it had remained undetected. The vehicle seemed to have been safe to approach. No one was watching it and it seemed undisturbed – at least from a distance. By the time he had checked on it many of the parking spots surrounding it had emptied due to the end of the work day.

But there had still been a lot of people passing close by in cars and on foot and he had decided it wasn't worth the risk right then. He might check on it as the night progressed. If the opportunity presented itself he might retrieve the vehicle. But he wouldn't keep it long, only long enough to get out of the city. Then he would get rid of it and find another means of transportation to his next locale.

He continued to watch the occupant of the car. Within only a few moments the driver's side door opened and a man about Tony's own age climbed out. He was nearing six feet tall and had a solid build to him. He didn't look familiar. By the way the man moved Tony could tell he wore a weapon on his right hip. This was definitely a cop.

The man strolled up the street then cut across the side yard of Tony's apartment building. He stopped when he reached the bank of postal boxes that stood near the corner of the building. Tony didn't miss the subtle surveying the man's gaze did checking to see if anyone was watching. Finding no one he removed a small case from his back pocket and pulled something from it. It wasn't until the man started to work the lock on the first box that Tony realized it was a lockpick kit. Apparently not finding what he was looking for in the first box he moved on to the next and repeated the action until he reached the box for apartment number 209.

Tony realized then what the man was looking for. Each box had a label which was taped on the inside of the door to the box to assist the postal carrier with delivery. They had been placed there by the landlord. Probably what had stopped the cop on that box was the fact that the label had been removed. The man took a second glance at the number on the front of the door to that box. He then closed it and looked at all the others. Unfortunately, Tony's box which was number 209 would be the only one without a label since the building was filled to capacity. Perhaps he should have put a fake label in there when he had removed the one the landlord had made with the name Jack Cutter. But what was done was done. Hindsight was twenty twenty after all.

The man visually checked the area again before walking away from the boxes and disappearing down the alleyway that led to the back of the building. Undoubtedly, intending to find a point of entry and then make his way up to Jack Cutter's apartment.

Tony knew in his gut this man was no ordinary cop. This cop was part of The Wheel.

He couldn't risk being out in the open any longer tonight. His plan to check back in on the Jeep and then if that didn't pan out possibly explore getting out of town on a bus would have to be placed on hold. His last plan had been to see if he could wrangle or bargain his way on a boat leaving the harbor. But now even that last resort was too risky. If the cop had tracked him this closely it was likely he had others keeping their eyes open for him around town.

Escaping the city was going to be incredibly tricky with a local cop keeping watch. He resigned himself to the fact he may need a little assistance in pulling it off.

Tony turned away from the street where his apartment building was located and made his way down the darkened narrow space between two neighboring houses. A moment later he came out on the next street over. After checking to see if anyone was around and finding it deserted he made his way southward towards the bay. On the way there he would place a single call on his burn phone then toss it into the ocean and pray the call out for help wasn't already too late.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Tobias Fornell slipped into the driver's seat of the FBI issued sedan. Nothing like hunting down a list of pedophiles to make for a excruciatingly long day that he would rather forget the details of permanently. But the outcome had been worth remembering. Dead or in custody. Every last one on the list that they had started out with now fit into one of those two categories.

He took a moment to savor the warmth which a sip of his coffee provided before placing it in the cup holder and pulling out the keys to the car. He was about to turn the key in the ignition when one of his cell phones began to ring. The ringtone indicated it was a private line.

Choosing the ringing over the key he grabbed the phone from his jacket pocket. He looked at the caller id. The display showed that the origin of the call was unavailable. Disguised callers always had him torn. They inevitably piqued his curiosity but sometimes by answering he got more than he bargained for. More often than not they only meant one thing and that was trouble. But every once in a while there was a gem in the bunch though.

"Yeah!" he stated answering the phone.

"I could use some help up here!" the rather agitated caller on the other end of the line responded.

"What's going on?" he asked. The tension was evident in his voice. He hadn't bothered to try and hide it. He had recognized the caller's voice instantly. They were forgoing the usual banter, no sarcastic laced greeting, no playful digs like there used to be each time they encountered one another back in the old days. If this man was calling him then something was seriously wrong.

"Let's put it this way. A mutual acquaintance of ours has picked up my trail. He doesn't know it yet. If you prefer to keep it that way then you are going to have to help out my cause here," Tony Dinozzo replied.

"Son of a bitch! How in the hell did that happen?"

"You're asking me? I've been out of the loop for how many freaking years. All I know is he showed up at my place of employment. Good thing for back doors. Not to mention good thing I can still out maneuver our younger acquaintance."

"Sure you lost 'em?"

"_Yes I'm sure I lost them._"

"Just asking. You don't have to get snippy."

"Being snippy is the least of my problems. And if you don't help me you'll hear something a hell of a lot harsher than that."

"Alright. I get it. You got a place to be?"

"Yeah. Probably not for long though."

"Give me twenty four hours."

"Twenty fours hours? _That long_. What are you retired now?"

"You just stay disappeared. I'll take care of it."

"I'll keep my end. You make sure you keep yours."

"I'm good for it Eddie," the FBI agent stated confidently. But the words of reassurance weren't the most valuable ones. Calling him Eddie had been. It was one of their codes conveying the time and place of their meet. It meant a half mile north of the main post office in whatever city or town Tony was currently in one hour after the office had closed on the following day. A post office was the one thing that nearly every town would have that could be used for a point of reference. If for some reason the half mile part wasn't possible they had a prioritized list of alternative directions or distances to follow. They also had several alternatives to the post office in a pinch.

And with that the call was disconnected. Fornell blew out a heavy breath, stowed the phone back in his pocket, and started the engine. Shortly he would be in the air or on the road in a desperate attempt to keep their secret and their mutual friends safe.

He had one stop first though. He had to find out where it was Gibbs had taken off to that had prompted the call. Fornell had been tied up with his little hunting expedition across Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania and had been out of the loop for nearly two days. Tony's location hadn't been a safe thing to discuss over the cell phone so it was on the FBI agent to figure out. They had code for towns and addresses as well but the phone call had already been extremely risky and Tony had told him enough. He just needed to follow Gibbs.

Tony must be in a real bind to have made that call. It had been years since they had actually spoken. Most of their communication had been prearranged drop type exchanges at times when DiNozzo was having real trouble getting a hold of something he needed.

And those had progressively dropped off in the last two years to the point where Fornell had not expected to ever hear from the other man again. The FBI agent had narrowed down the reason for no contact for such a prolonged period of time to two possibilities. Dinozzo had either severed all ties and become a ghost of his former self out there on the run or The Wheel had discovered what they done and had killed him for real. Fornell had to confess that relief had washed through him when he had first heard the younger man's voice on the other end of the line. He was shamed to admit it but he had begun to believe that Tony was dead at the hands of The Wheel and that he would never know for sure how he died or where his remains were located. And that it was on him for having pulled the NCIS agent into all of this in the first place.

Tobias Fornell swallowed down hard and silently thanked whatever force out there that had been watching over Gibbs' boy. Because surely there was not enough luck out there to cover how fortunate they had been thus far.

Fornell was the only one who knew Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was alive and he intended to keep it that way. Having to keep silent while the NCIS team had grieved their friend had been much harder than he had anticipated. He must have reminded himself thousands of times that better they suffer through their grief than be killed themselves as a way of getting to DiNozzo.

He shook his head as the regret tried to creep in. There had been no other choice he reminded himself. His involvement had been undetected by their targets and the NCIS agent had been backed into an impossible corner by The Wheel.

The younger man had been vehemently resistant at first to the idea of faking his own death. By laying out their options in gritty graphic detail regarding how each way the situation could end Fornell had finally convinced him. The actual faking of DiNozzo's death had not gone quite as planned but they had managed to pull it out in the end. It had been way too close though. And the bullet hole in DiNozzo certainly hadn't been part of their plan.

Tony's cover story had somehow been blown and The Wheel had given him a choice. Either align with The Wheel for real which included proving his allegiance in a most horrific way or The Wheel would work their way down his list of friends and loved ones until he got his answer to them right.

Unfortunately, the threats had been presented in such a way that they were of little to no use as leverage to pin anything on the group. Their only possible out had been to make The Wheel believe that the NCIS agent was dead. And, in turn, the only way to ensure the safety of his friends and their families was for them to believe it too.

It had been Fornell who had been the one to break the news to Gibbs. At first the former marine had been unconvinced that DiNozzo had perished in the bay. Fornell had thought of this ahead of time and added details to the story of what had happened that had helped sealed it more firmly in reality. One of these details was that Fornell had been there when it happened – he had been witness to it.

Still even then Jethro had resisted it. The only thing that Tobias could think of that finally forced the other man to come to the conclusion that Tony was really gone was the passage of days then months then finally years.

"Dammit Gibbs! I swear if you get us all killed I'm going to be really pissed!" Tobias declared as he put the vehicle in gear and pressed his foot down hard on the gas pedal. He had to find out where they were in a hurry and get there before everything went horribly wrong. Because the potential cost of what had been set in motion was a price he wasn't willing to pay.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

From the shadows Tony did a visual scan of the area surrounding the building that stood diagonally across the narrow street from where he was stationed. The late hour meant there were few people out and about in the city but it was better to take the time to ensure there was no one around.

When he was comfortable with the look of things he darted across the street and headed for the side of the building. Once there he was protected in the shadows again so he slowed his pace. Staying vigilant for any indication someone might be nearby he worked his way around to the back. Hearing and seeing no sign that anyone was present he picked the lock on the rear door and slipped inside.

The three story building was empty and appeared to have been that way for quite a while. Best he could tell it had been a business at one time based off the items that had been left behind. It was located on a side street not too far from the waterfront. The street dead ended into the back parking lot of a large warehouse. Tony suspected that its location in the run down industrial area may have contributed to the fact that the business was no longer operating. It certainly wasn't the nice side of town. But that was okay with him. The forgotten building suited his purposes rather nicely.

Several moves ago, maybe back in St. Louis or had it been Denver, he had started setting up what he considered safe houses. They weren't your typical federal issues safe houses. They were more like the kind bank robbers would hold up in old time movies.

Upon arriving in a new place he would scout out buildings such as this one which he could use in emergencies. He then would select two or three out of what was available. It was amazing how many forgotten buildings you could find in one city when you started looking. Of course, not all of them fit his purposes and some, well, they may have been forgotten by most but that didn't mean they were unoccupied.

But this one had proven squatter free after several stints of staking the place out over a period of time. That didn't mean he wasn't going check the place anyway on the off chance a new tenant had taken up residence.

With the flashlight from his key chain and his gun in hand he cleared each and every room. Once he had confirmed he was alone Tony allowed himself to relax a little. He holstered his weapon back on his leg then made his way back to the small windowless office type room at the far rear corner of the building.

The room was crammed with old chairs and metal file cabinets and other discarded items. Tony made quick work of clearing away a pile of cardboard boxes which left him facing the brick covered back wall of the room. Taking the knife from his belt he squatted down facing the wall.

N_ine up and six over from the right corner_ he recalled silently as he counted out the individual bricks with the tip of his knife. When he found the right one he placed his fingertips on it and tested it – still loose. It needed a bit of help though so using his knife to pry it free he had it out quickly enough. The other eight lower on the wall and those off to the sides for the most part came out at about the same rate.

So within a few minutes his knife was once again concealed in his belt and the flashlight from his key chain was back in his hand. For its small size the flashlight illuminated a fair portion of the hole he had created in the wall.

Peering inside he was relieved at what he found. The extra large industrial strength garbage bag he had hidden there weeks and weeks ago was there and looked to be in good condition. Grabbing hold of the black plastic he tugged it free of the hole. The movement kicked up a cloud of dust and Tony sputtered a little while the debris danced around in the air.

"They really should fire their housekeeper," he whispered jokingly. His mood had lifted considerably with the sight of the supplies he had stored away here. He had done the same at the other safe house he had selected so that if something happened to this one he would have another chance at it. Most of all it meant he wouldn't die of hypothermia or go without food and water. Looking at the bag he realized that apparently he had gotten a little carried away with sealing it up. The opening had been tied then duct taped to the point it would take his knife to get into it.

A few minutes later he had gotten through the tape and the double layers of plastic and had the contents of the bag laid out on the floor. And he had gotten lucky because the bag was intact which meant no little critters had nibbled on them or even that there weren't any little critters still hidden away inside. He really wasn't all that fond of potential disease carrying critters ever since the plague.

He patted a hand over the cloth of the sleeping bag ensuring it was dry which, thankfully, it turned out to be. It was October in Maine and the weather forecast had indicated the overnight lows would be unseasonably cold the next few nights. If thirties was typical as the forecaster had indicated than he hated to think what _unseasonably cold _meant temperature wise. The chill had already taken a hold of his body just standing outside across the street for a short while. And the temperature in the interior of the building wasn't much better.

Next he skimmed the beam of his flashlight over the large hiking pack. The pack was the kind intended for extended treks and, therefore, would hold quite a few items. It too seemed intact and free of any critter tampering. The third and last item was a duffel bag which he had packed with several changes of clothes. The large pouch type pockets on each end of it contained bottles of water.

Returning his attention to the pack he unzipped the front compartment enough to peek inside. Shining the flashlight in it revealed that both the packaged and the non perishable foods he filled it with were in good shape. He checked the other compartments of the pack refreshing his memory on the items each contained. Keys items included a large flashlight, batteries, cigarette lighters, several knives, a couple boxes of ammo, a 9mm firearm, a first aid kit, pepper spray and lastly some cash.

Tony blew out an exhausted exhale. He had worried a little on the way over if everything would be intact since it had been a while between checks on the building and his supplies. There was the other safe house which had the same items hidden away but it would have been quite a trek on foot to get over there. So he was relieved that he could rest here for the time being.

In fact now his body was so tired it ached. He had been so focused and on the move for so many hours the physical impact was only now hitting him that he was able to stay still. Despite his weariness he doubted he would rest much for the remainder of the night. But at least he would be warm and fed. Tomorrow he would hopefully connect up with Fornell and make some progress on a way to make it safely undetected out of the city.

He unrolled the sleeping bag and wrapped it around his shoulders, holding it together with one hand. Instantly he felt the chill in his body lessen. With his free hand he fished a package of trail mix out of his pack – not exactly an entree from a five star restaurant but as hungry as he was it suited him just fine. Then he grabbed a bottled water from the duffel bag.

Still a bit restless Tony walked out of the small room. He made his way down the hall and came out into a larger more open area. There was a big wooden desk next to one of the windows so he headed to it. Pulling the sleeping bag more snugly around his body he sat down on the top of the desk, set down the water, and then ripped opened the food package.

He slowly ate from the bag of trail mix while staring up into the night sky outside the window.

"I'm sorry about this Boss but I have to make sure I've got your six! Even if you don't know it," Tony whispered out into the stillness of the room and up at the sky. Taking a glance at his watch he discovered it was already 0130 hours. Most of the city was asleep by now. He was one of the few still awake. Gibbs would be amongst them as well – probably sitting watch in a darkened hotel room somewhere. Tony smiled at the thought. Just knowing they were in the same city made him feel less alone.

"Get some rest Boss. I've got your six," he offered softly out to the night.

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Leroy Jethro Gibbs carefully turned the knob on the door that separated his hotel room from the adjoining one. He opened the door a quarter of the way and let his vision adjust to the darkness in the next room. A sliver of light from the single small lamp he had left on in his own room provided a bit of assistance in surveying the area of the other room near the two beds.

His newest agent, Moore, was sleeping on his side facing away from the door. The only thing that indicated it might have been hard won sleep was the fact the younger man had a pillow over the back of his head and up over to cover his ear completely. The rest of his face was visible but the arm rested on top of the pillow holding it in place against his head showed this positioning had been deliberate. He had to give the kid credit he had managed to fall asleep despite the considerable snoring coming from his bunk mate in the next bed.

Gibbs shifted his gaze to the right and observed his senior field agent for a moment. McGee was sprawled out on his back and with the exception of the snoring, which was most likely caused by swelling and the pain medication Gibbs had seen him take earlier, he seemed okay. He would give Tim a little more uninterrupted sleep before he had to wake him for a concussion check. The image of his agent lying on the ground motionless and bloody flashed through his mind for an instant. He swallowed down hard in its wake then closed the door on the sleeping agents.

Back in his own room he walked to the window, clicking off the light on his way by it. The drapes were open slightly and an orange glow from the streetlights outside filtered in. Gibbs sat down in the armchair near the window, rested his head back, and gazed out into the night sky.

His body was tired but he doubted he would sleep much in the remaining hours before dawn. Between the checks every few hours on Tim and the way his gut was clenched there was little point in lying down.

He took a quick glance over at the alarm clock on the table beside the bed. It was already 0130 hours. He tore his gaze away from the illuminated digits as realization gripped.

Midnight had passed by.

October 17th was gone.

And so was Tony.

"I'm going to get the bastards who took you away, Tony. If it's the last thing I do. I promise I will not stop until it's done," he whispered up at the sky as he fought down the tears that threatened to rise.

_To Be Continued..._

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_Author's Notes..._

_To those that guessed Fornell – nice job!_

_I realize this was a long chapter but I hope it answered some of your questions._

_And I couldn't resist responding to the inquiry regarding the potential for a good ole Tony whumping. So I consulted my Magic 8 Ball and look at that it predicted ….Outlook Good!_

_Thanks so much for reading! Appreciate the reviews._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chasing Jack**

**Chapter Seven**

The door clicked closed at his back as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. The warm embrace which had engulfed his body while in the little coffee shop faded and the crispness of an early morning in October grasped a hold of him. Gibbs stood outside the cafe for a moment and breathed in the fresh cool air. It carried a hint of the ocean and he smiled faintly. The smell always took him to a place of freedom – of days spent out at sea by himself in a sailboat. But these days the sensation was always very fleeting and with a single heartbeat it had come and gone. He wondered if he would ever be able to savor it for any real length of time again.

Tugging up at the zipper on his jacket with his free hand in an attempt to keep the chill away he headed down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. He would head in the direction of the hotel but he could use the slowed progress to clear his head and maybe figure out why his gut had gone into overdrive. He took his first sip from the cup in his hand just as his cell began to ring. He retrieved it from his pocket and answered it without bothering to check the caller id.

"Gibbs."

"Boss, where are you? I knocked on your door but you didn't answer."

"That would be because I'm not there McGee."

"I sort of figured that out Boss."

"Ya did, did ya? All on you own huh?" the team lead retorted.

"Point taken."

"What is it McGee?"

"Remember Chris Bennett?"

"From the list. Our missing ferry lines employee. What about him?"

"He's dead. His body was found along the Fore River. It runs between Portland and South Portland and empties out into the bay. Body got hung up on something near the shore."

"Cause of death?"

"I only just saw it on the news. Still under investigation. But his body was found near the Casco Bay Bridge. The news seemed to imply that he may have jumped. There's another bridge close by along the river too. Veteran's Bridge. So that's a possibility they are looking at as well."

"More like someone got to him before we did."

"The Wheel?" McGee questioned.

"Willing to bet my morning coffee on it. And I just found a place here that makes a decent cup. Question is why were they looking for him?"

"He was the very first name on that list Boss."

"And now he's dead. Suicide my ass!"

"Yeah and Jack Cutter was the second. If they got to Bennett before we could they are not far behind Cutter either."

"_Yeah McGee!_ That's why we're going to find him first."

"Boss, what are you thinking?"

"That Jack Cutter knows something. I can feel it in my gut. _Dammit! _We're missing something big here and it's beginning to piss me off."

"I was just starting to do some digging on Bennett. From what I can gather from the news and other sources he kind of lived on the margins. Kind of guy who moved around a lot, worked odd jobs for cash, a bit sketchy. Even used an alias once or twice."

"The list. It gave notes on each person. What did it have for Bennett?"

"Uh. Let me see. It says brown hair, slightly over six feet tall with green eyes. Works at Casco Bay Ferry. Portland, Maine. That's it."

"What about the others?"

"Well, you already know about Jack Cutter. Just that he worked at Traveler's Pub and Portland, Maine. After him there's Matt Hanson. Just says Preble Street Gym and that he has brown hair and over six feet tall. Portland again. Then there's Thomas Riley. Says brown eyes, reddish brown hair, Shaw's Supermarket. Portland. Then the next one doesn't list a name just brown hair and green eyes and drives a black Mazda. Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Next Robert Tremblay - over six feet, green eyes, Carlton Street shelter. Portland. Then another one with no name. Sandy blond hair about six feet two or three, jogging trail. Ann Arbor, Michigan. Then just a first name, Travis, green eyes, dark brown hair, Works at Pop's Gas Station. Saratoga Springs, New York. Next is..."

"Stop McGee."

"Boss?"

"You notice anything about the people on that list?"

"Uh. Well. They are all men. No women."

"Yeah. True. What else?"

"I guess there's some characteristics that repeat. Lot of brown hair, green eyes and tall," the junior agent offered.

"Identifiers. The kind you might put on a report."

"Or in a BOLO."

"Yep. Just like that."

"Boss, what are you thinking?"

"It's a hunt list McGee. The people on that list aren't people The Wheel wants to recruit or tap for resources. Not anything of the kind. They are looking for someone. And that list is the possibilities. They are hunting down the people on that list until they find the one they are looking for."

"Boss, that means every person on that list is in danger."

"Not if we get to them first. The other names on the list. Get Ziva and Moore on running them down. Just to gather intel. Do not approach yet."

"Well I was already started on that."

"Hand it off to them. You and I are going to pay Bruce Seavey another visit."

"The pub owner?"

"Well, yeah, McGee. The guy was willing to alert Cutter that we were there so he could run. Maybe he knows something about Cutter we could use to find him."

"Boss, I also started looking at Cutter. There's nothing. He's like a ghost. He must work under the table. I hacked into Department of Labor's system and he is not on the list of employees on any filed wage returns for Traveler's Pub. I had hoped to get a Social or even a middle name on him but no luck. I've checked other databases and there's just nothing."

"Way too clean. Driver's License?"

"Did get that. He's blond. Blue eyes. Heavy set."

"Did you get any kind of look at Cutter?"

"Sorry Boss. He had a hood up over his head the entire time. He was probably about my height though which gels with the license information. But he wasn't heavy set like the driver's license photo. Could have lost weight and gotten in shape I suppose. I know I haven't updated my license since I started going to the gym more. Lot of people look different than when they had their license photo taken."

"Or the picture is a fake. Close enough to pass but not really him. Get pulled over and he can use the same explanation you just did. Can say he lost weight and it's a bad photo. Set Abby on facial rec on the photo. Maybe there's some connection between Cutter and the guy in the photo."

"Will do Boss."

"McGee think. Hard. Was there anything else you remember about your encounter with Cutter? Put yourself back there. Anything?" Gibbs pressed. A few seconds of silence followed before the junior agent replied.

"I heard his voice. Softly anyway."

"Would you recognize it if you heard it again?"

"I don't know Boss. Probably not. It was very quiet and I was in the middle of trying to wrestle him down off the fence. Then just before he kicked me I felt that he had gun in an ankle holster on his leg."

"He had a weapon and you didn't tell me about it sooner!"

"Boss, I swear it just came back to me. Probably because we're talking about it. It was right before I passed out that I discovered it strapped to his leg. Maybe the knock on the head made me forget til now."

"We'll be having a little chat about that later. But for now. Could you make out what he said?"

"It wasn't in English I know that much. Sounded like Italian maybe. And it was only a word or two."

"Think on it. See if you can remember what it sounded like. Brew on it in the back of your head. Might come back to you."

"I don't think it'll do much good."

"Worth a try."

"What's the plan when we catch Cutter or whichever one of those on the list The Wheel is actually after?"

"Leverage McGee. If the Wheel is after this guy and we get to him first we can negotiate. Protection in exchange for information on The Wheel."

"Well, then, hopefully it wasn't Chris Bennett."

"My gut is telling me this Jack Cutter knows something. I don't think he just ran because we're cops."

"How are you so sure Boss?"

"I just told you McGee. My gut."

"It does have a pretty good track record."

"And it's screaming at me to find Cutter."

"Working on it Boss."

"I'm on my way back to the hotel now."

"Alright see you in a few."

Gibbs disconnected the call and slipped the phone back in his jacket pocket. He still maintained a lax pace on the way towards the hotel. He was hoping with a little solo time the pieces might show him how they hit together.

"That's a good cup of coffee," he commented after taking a second long sip from the Java Jim's cup. He would have to see about getting his refills from that same coffee shop.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

The Casco Bay Bridge loomed overhead as Danny St. Clair walked the shoreline of the Fore River. They had a dead body which at first theory was looking like a jumper. Chris Bennett, early forties, single, off and on mechanic and handy man. He had been deceased for about a day. They were still waiting upon the official word on how much of that time had been spent in the water. The corpse had been spotted shortly after dawn by a boat passing by on the river. Bennett's body had gotten caught up on some brush along the edge of the river in an area under the bridge.

St. Clair knew the place well. When he was still riding a patrol car he would get calls down here quite a bit. The transients tended to gather here away from the scrutiny of people on the city streets. They would camp out in makeshift tents and shelters. That was until the cops were called of course.

Danny stopped walking and looked down at the digital camera in his hand. He hit the button on it to scroll forward and back through the photos which had been taken of the body. Noting the brown hair and green eyes he then dug into his jacket pocket for his notebook. He flipped to the last page where he had taken down the other physical characteristics of the man. The height immediately stood out to him. Six feet two.

He then flipped the pages backwards and let his eyes skim the other notes there. When they had looked Bennett up in the system he had come up as having used several aliases.

Danny lifted his gaze up from the notepad and peered up at the bridge above his head. It seemed too much of a coincidence. Bennett's description fit that Scout Order from The Wheel just a little too well. Now he was more and more certain they were looking for someone in particular and had more than one possibility to check out. They must have gotten multiple reports in on the order. His assignment and the order were connected just as he suspected. They had sent another Wheel member to look at Bennett. And either Bennett had been the one who they sought and they had disposed of him, making it look like a suicide, or Bennett had become aware of their checking into him. And maybe put up a fight which he clearly lost.

He would have to contact Billy Greene again soon. Danny decided it was best to play that conversation as if he was responded to the Scout Order. Telling his boss that he had a deceased that fit the bill. Then see what Greene was willing to share. He may also report in on how Cutter's residence had panned out which hadn't been good.

But he would have to make that call on his second cell phone and at a time when he wasn't surrounded by what felt like half of the Portland police force.

Danny slipped his notepad back in his pocket and turned off the camera. He began walking again. This time making his way over to where his fellow detective and their sergeant stood talking.

"I'm tending to agree here. Looking more and more like a jumper," he stated when he reached them.

"Yeah. Run every angle. But I have a feeling we'll end up back where we started," the detective sergeant commented.

"Me too. Sarge. Me too," Danny St. Clair offered in reply.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Abby hummed as she moved about her lab. She brought up one of the monitors so it was all set to go for the team to contact her which McGee had texted they would do soon. She had told him to video conference. It made her feel like they weren't so far away and calmed a small shred of her anxiety. Seeing them all last night had certainly helped her fall asleep.

Her humming of Working On The Railroad got more lively and finally she was actually singing the tune aloud. However, she quickly bored of the old version and made up her own as she continued to organize some of the evidence for processing.

"I've been working on the evidence all the live long morn. I've been working on the evidence. Just to put the bad guys away. Don't you hear Mister Mass Spec calling. Got a really late start this morning. Can't you hear the Bossman growling."

"Nice rewrite!" a voice stated from behind her. She froze in place for a second before daring to turn around. Finally when she did she realized the voice had come from her computer. As promised the team was contacting her. Well, at least one of them was calling her that is.

"Thank goodness it's you McGee."

"Well thanks Abby. It's nice to talk to you too."

"I mean I totally overslept this morning. Ya know what with being here so late last night. I guess the fact that I forgot to set my alarm might have had something to do with it. And now the morning is gone. I mean it's practically afternoon already. Anyway, I was so glad it wasn't Gibbs calling."

"Oh. I see."

"Oh no. I love talking to you McGee. But as grouchy as Gibbs has been since all this started back up I figured I better be on my A game and I am not really starting off well today. My game's a little sub par this morning."

"Well then you will be happy to know that Gibbs found this little coffee shop down the street called Java Jim's and he actually likes their coffee. So he is a fraction less grouchy than he was last night. I am thinking about going over there and seeing if they take donations. I would really like to show them my gratitude."

"Day ain't over McGee. I wouldn't be counting out those bills just yet."

"Hey! Don't burst my bubble. I'm injured remember."

"That's low Timmy. Playing the injured card. And after I offered you a double dose of my hugs."

"How about I make up for it by giving you a gift?" he offered with a smile.

"It's not like a gag gift is it?"

"Nope. And you get to use one of your favorite software programs with it."

"You're not talking about the one I think you're talking about, are you?"

"Yes Abby. It involves facial recognition."

"I love facial recognition!"

"I know you do. So my gift to you is that I have sent you a driver's license photo and I need you to see if you can come up with a name."

"Wait a minute mister! You said this wasn't a gag gift," Abby stated while crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance.

"It's not."

"It's from a driver's license, McGee, you already have a name."

"Ah ha! That's where you're wrong. We don't believe that the picture belongs with the name on the license."

"Sneaky. I like it."

"I thought you might."

"Will you bring me a real gift when you come back? Ya know if you can swing it. Even just an itsy bitsy sovereign. Never been to Maine before."

"I'll do my best. But I have a feeling that the only place we're stopping at on the way out of town when this is done is Java Jim's for Gibbs last refill."

"Well, bring me a bag of their coffee. I can use it to get stuff out of Gibbs. Ya know sway him over to my way of thinking on stuff. I'll just wave the open bag under his nose. Hmm? Better buy a couple bags. On second thought maybe they can ship it to us in bulk," the forensics expert proposed.

"That's a really good idea Abby."

"What's a good idea, McGee?" Gibbs asked suddenly appearing behind his agent.

"Uh, well. Abby was just about to give us something useful. Weren't you Abby?"

"That's...uh...true. I was. What was that again? Oh yeah. I have something Ducky wanted me to tell you about when you called. He had a dental appointment to go to – something that needed looking at without delay. He didn't seem very excited though. Surprising. I always look forward to the dentist."

"Wasn't excited. Imagine that," McGee commented in jest.

"What was it he wanted passed along?" Gibbs asked.

"He said he would touch base with you later on the details. But you know how Ducky said last night that if the drowning thing hadn't killed Davis cancer would have?"

"Yeah. So."

"This guy was totally doomed."

"Why?"

"Because on second review Ducky discovered something. Some of Davis' organs that initially looked like they were damaged due to the cancer or possibly cancer treatments weren't."

"Meaning?"

"If the drowning hadn't killed Davis next in line probably would have been the poison. And then the cancer. Like I said he was doomed."

"What kind of poison Abs?"

"I am working on it as we speak. Looks like it might be some sort of combination of poisons or an altered one. As soon as I know you will."

"Anything else on that plastic thingy?" McGee asked.

"Not yet. But I have found something interesting regarding the clothes he had on when they found him. As soon as I took them out of the evidence bag I could smell it. Well, there were some other smells that we won't even talk about but this one was a positive one."

"What did you find Abby?" Gibbs inquired.

"Negative ions. Well not _really_ negative ions. But the smell leads back to negative ions which by the way can be very healing."

"Get to the point Abby."

"Ya know how people say they are more relaxed at the beach. It's because they probably are. Ocean air has a higher concentration of negative ions to positive ones compared to regular air and especially to polluted air. Negative ions can stimulate the mood and help brain waves. I always love how the smell of the ocean lingers on you when come home. Ya know even though what the smell really comes from is kind of gross. Well, anyway, that's what Devon Davis came home with too. Underneath all the other unmentionable smells he smelled like the ever relaxing ocean air."

"How long would that scent last? How long a time frame we talking?" the team leader questioned.

"To still be a pleasant smell when I opened the bag it would have to have been really close to time of death."

"Maybe Devon Davis stayed somewhere recently near a beach or went on a boat ride or just was, ya know, hanging around the beach?" McGee interjected.

"And that's just what you'll be looking into when we get back here McGee."

"Where are you guys going?" Abby asked.

"Ya know that list I put in evidence. The one we got from the guys Gibbs and I chased."

"Sure do. Still working on that code."

"I've actually made some progress on that. I'll call you when we're back and show you. Anyway, the top couple pages had that list of people. We're running them down. The second one down – the one who did this to my face – Jack Cutter – he worked at a pub downtown here so we are going to go back and talk to the owner again to see if he knows anything to help us track down the guy."

"You go get him McGee! Then _if I was there of course_ I would sit on him and hold him down for you while you bop him right smack in the schnozola."

"Thanks for the offer Abby. I think we got it covered."

"That's true. Just one glare from Gibbs will be enough to paralyze the jerk while you deck him."

"Get to work Abby. I want answers! And if you don't have some the next time I call you'll be the one receiving the glare!" the team lead snapped.

"On it Bossman. Sciuto out!" she announced and logged off.

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Just as he stepped down from the boat onto the dock Billy Greene's phone rang. He started to walk up along the wooden walkway as he retrieved the phone and answered.

"Yep."

"It's St. Clair."

"Danny, whatcha got for me?"

"Well, caught a case up here. Body found in the water along the shoreline of the river. Reason I mention it is because it fit that order from a while back. This guy had brown hair, green eyes and is over six feet tall. He's also got a couple aliases. I can send you a photo if you want."

"Yeah. Send it," he answered and turned back towards the boat so he would be able to take a look at it on his laptop. Fortunately, the marina where the boat was docked had wi-fi in the area.

"You should have it in a few seconds."

"Anything else?" he inquired. He had climbed back abroad and had pulled his laptop out of the bag he had been carrying.

"Did pick up a lead on Jack Cutter."

"Good. Uh. Yeah. Not interested in your deceased," Billy replied as he looked at the picture of a very dead Chris Bennett. He deliberately neglected to mention why he was not interested though.

"I had searched to see if Cutter had a car registered. At first I came up empty. But then this morning it occurred to me that Cutter's first name might actually be John or Jonathan since Jack can be a nickname for those names. So I tried both John and Jonathan Cutter. Still no hits. I searched another way and came up with a Jeep registered to a Jonathan Cutters. Easy enough there. Somebody in some office somewhere typed it in wrong or Cutter did it deliberately hoping the S on the end of the last name would be overlooked which it was. Cutter probably thought it would make it hard to find."

"And it appears he was correct. You get a plate on him?" Billy asked.

"I got more than that."

"How's that?"

"There was a parking ticket entered into the system this morning on that plate. It was parked downtown in the business district. Overnight tonight the street sweeper is scheduled on that street. If it's still there by midnight it will be towed. Since Cutter was chased by those two navy cops it's hard to tell if he'll return to it before then. Anyway, I recognized the street where the ticket was written and it just so happens that recently I worked a case down there. The video from a camera at one of the businesses became useful. While at the business to go over the video I got to know the owner well and he welcomed me back anytime. So this afternoon I went over to the business district. I located the Jeep without actually approaching it. Then I went over to the store where I knew the owner and asked if I might look at his video again. I realized that the place where the Jeep was parked was within the outer edge of the camera's range so it may have caught something. I hoped I might get something on Cutter at the Jeep. And we got damn lucky because I got him on video getting out of the vehicle. It's not high definition or anything but I managed to get a still photo from the video."

"Able to send it to me?"

"Sure can. Sending it right now."

"That's good work Danny."

"Interested in that photo any more than the last one?" the detective inquired.

"I am extremely interested in this photo. I'm going to tell you something in confidence. You hear what I am saying to you?" Greene responded as he studied the picture on the computer screen in front of him.

"I hear ya."

"The man in this photo is someone we have been looking to locate for a while now. He is someone your bosses need to speak with and who will then be educated on his misguided actions while in our employ."

"See now you have my curiosity up. What on earth did this guy do?"

"I am not at liberty to tell you any further details over the phone. I am coming up there and will explain more when I arrive. I will be leaving here shortly."

"Is there anything I can do to help in the meantime? If need be I can bird dog the Jeep. That way if Jack comes for it we can track him. Sounds like you don't want to lose him."

"Do it if you can manage it without drawing too much attention."

"Shouldn't be too much trouble. I can get the device underneath the vehicle in a matter of seconds."

"Do your best to conceal it. Cutter might be checking the vehicle for such things."

"Really? Who is this guy?"

"I'll explain when I get up there."

"Alright I'll see you in a bit. Meeting place?"

"Number three."

"Got it," the detective assured him.

"Be smart. Fight hard."

"And die old!" Danny responded with their typical conversation ender. Billy hit the button on the phone to finish the call then immediately dialed another number.

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was alive and they had proof and were closing in on him. He had to inform his fellow leaders and confer on the details of the handling of this little problem. Just the thought that in a matter of a couple hours he might be face with that traitor made the adrenaline pulse through his veins.

"Mercy is only for the loyal," he commented to himself as he listened to the ringing on the other end of the line.

"Hey!" Aaron Davis' voice answered finally.

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Tony held up the piece of white lined paper in his left hand and stared at it. His right hand grasped a hold of one of the cigarette lighters he had stored in his hiking pack. The pen he had used to write with was now laid discarded on the old wooden desk in front of him.

The black ink of the words he had written seemed to stare back at him. He never should have written the letter which was why he had put down the pen and picked up the lighter instead.

But seeing Gibbs and McGee had broken free all those memories and emotions from that deep down place inside himself where he had locked them away so long ago.

Originally, he had pulled up a chair to the desk and with a pen and pad of paper from his pack had began taking down notes he would pass along to Fornell when they met. Over the years he had been going over every last detail in his head about his time with The Wheel. He had not come up with anything rock solid but there were several things that might lead somewhere so he had jotted them down for the FBI agent to check.

However, when he had finished with that list and torn the pages from the notepad the next blank page stared up at him. And without pondering on what he was doing too long he had started writing a letter to his team.

He supposed part of it was that he knew The Wheel was close on his trail this time. And there was a fair chance that someday he just might not get away. This might be his last chance to hand off a letter to Fornell in the event of his actual death.

But now he wasn't sure he should pass it along. Maybe if The Wheel did catch up to him perhaps it was best that his team never knew he had been alive all this time. It seemed cruel to make them think in retrospect that he had been out there and they hadn't been able to help him. So now here he sat with the letter in one hand and the lighter in the other. His own words met his gaze.

First came his brotherly teasing to Tim and then the more serious offering of how good an agent Tim had become. He told the younger agent he better have Gibbs' back or he would come back and haunt his ass. But then commented that luckily he wouldn't have to do that because he couldn't really see them doing the pottery scene from Ghost. He knew Tim would not let him down.

There was the sisterly teasing of Ziva and how it was best this was in a letter rather than in person because he was pretty sure he would lose an eye or a limb otherwise. He thanked her for being part of their team and bringing him some differing and raw perspective that both he and the team needed.

To Ducky he wrote of how he so greatly appreciated his ability to stay grounded and to ground others including himself many a time. He even admitted to missing the old man's tales of intrigue and adventure regardless of whether they were true or embellished.

He simply thanked Jimmy Palmer for being a stand up guy and also for giving Ducky a partner. Because everyone needs a good fit in a partner and he and Ducky were that.

Then there was the description of just how enormous the hug he was visualizing himself giving Abby in his head was. He offered her his admiration of how she was fearless and stubborn in being herself and not giving in to what others expected or wanted her to be. Then he described how good the imagined hug back from Abby had been.

Lastly, he had kept it short and simple with the passage to Gibbs. He had written just a few short lines which he hoped conveyed the importance of having known the marine for over a decade.

_Boss, it was an honor having your six – best education I could have ever asked for._

_You offered me the greatest gift anyone ever could – a real family and a place I belonged. I never told you this but that day in the hallway outside of the agent application office the head slap wasn't necessary – I already knew I was home._

His eyes blurry with moisture Tony struggled to take in a sufficient breath. Last night it had been calming to know that Gibbs and the team were somewhere not far away – somewhere under the same city lights. But now he kind of wished they hadn't been so close to discovering him. With the arrival of daylight the realization had come that continuing on from here was going to be even harder than it had been for the last four years. All the memories and emotions he had worked so hard to lock away were now running rampant in his heart and mind. Going on from here was going to be even lonelier and even greater a struggle.

Tony flicked the lighter in his hand on so the flame ignited. He held it near the bottom corner of the paper. But he couldn't bring himself to actually touch the flame to the page. So he turned off the lighter and dropped it onto the desk. He folded the letter and slipped it and the notes for Fornell into the inside pocket of his jacket. Maybe he just needed to carry it with him for a while before he could let it go and finally burn it.

Standing up Tony glanced out the window at the fall afternoon. He had a little while left before he had to head out from the safe house to meet Fornell so he decided he would go make sure everything was packed up. He had decided that it was probably wise to leave his supplies here since going out with the large hiking pack and sleeping bag strapped to his back and the duffel in hand would draw attention to him. He just prayed that it would go well and he would have the chance to come back for his things because they could prove useful. He would grab a few items to carry with him though. The 9mm firearm and the ammo were definitely coming with him. He would change clothes including wearing one of the baseball caps he had packed in the duffel. And then he would grab some food out of his pack since he had learned long ago he better eat while he had the chance.

Checking his watch he assured himself he had more than ample time to get ready and then headed off towards the small back room where he had held up for most of the night and morning.

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"So this Jack Cutter guy own a car McGee? You did check into that, right?" Gibbs asked as they walked up the sidewalk towards Travelers.

"Well, I have been checking registration and title databases. I started here in this state but I mean he could have a car from some place else. Nothing yet."

"Maybe Seavey knows something about his ride."

"Good idea Boss. Coworkers often see what their colleagues drive. That is if he has a car. I suppose he could use public transportation. Would explain why I haven't found anything so far. Even I still have a bus pass."

"Do ya really see a guy like Jack Cutter who gets paid under the table, works in a bar, and runs at the first sign of law enforcement being someone who relies on the bus McGee?" the team leader replied as they made their way into the pub.

"I see your point," Tim said as he followed Gibbs into the main room of the bar. Seavey was there stooped over working on something underneath the counter. He straightened up upon hearing their conversation.

"_Ugh_. You two again!" he tossed at them.

"It's nice to see you again too," Gibbs threw right back in a sarcastic tone.

"Last time you were here you ran off my best employee and I'm supposed to welcome you back."

"Wow. That's some employee standard you got there, Bruce, if Cutter was your star employee!" Gibbs commented.

"Hey, the man did his job. Didn't give me any trouble until the pair of you showed up. Now I'm down a man."

"He's the one who chose to run," McGee piped in.

"Well you were chasing him with guns. Big surprise that he ran."

"Why run if you have nothing to hide?" Gibbs asked.

"Was there something specific you wanted or are you just here to harass me?"

"Just a few questions about Cutter then we'll do our best not to come back," the senior agent offered.

"Alright. If that's what it'll take. I got customers that will be in soon. And I don't need you two here when they arrive. Bad for business!" Seavey conceded. Tim jumped right on in.

"Hey. I noticed you have all these photos on the walls. Any chance this Jack guy is in one of them?" McGee inquired as his gaze panned around the room. The walls were crammed with photos, many of them of cheerful groups of people celebrating at the bar. He hoped the odds were that the guy they were looking for might be in at least one of them.

"Not likely. Jack always offers to be the one to take the pictures. Pretty good at it too. Doesn't seem to care much for having his own taken though."

"Imagine that?" McGee replied not particularly surprised but a tad disappointed.

"Now why would that be?" Gibbs added with suspicion edging his tone.

"I don't ask questions. Don't go askin' for trouble. Enough comes through here all on its own. Jack helps me out with that pretty good. So I let him be."

"So he's your bouncer?" Gibbs inquired.

"Let's put it this way. He is a man of many hats."

"Any of those hats, oh I don't know, say could maybe land him in jail?"

"Hey now! I just run a club. If you're asking if I have anything going on the side not so on the up and up then the answer is no."

"Better not be. Because if there is and we find it won't end well for you," Gibbs stated.

"Is that some kind of threat?" the pub owner snapped.

"Nope. Merely a suggestion that it might be a good idea to cooperate."

"I've been nothing but cooperative since you walked in here. You're still here, aren't ya?"

"No. Since we walked in here you haven't given me one shred of information that will help us find Jack. That's gonna change right now."

"Come on man! He's an okay guy. Helped me out a time or two. Can't we just leave it there?"

"Nope." Gibbs responded, popping a peanut from the bowl on the bar in his mouth.

"He really is an okay guy. All of this ratting him out doesn't feel right."

"Look at his face. Do you see his broken nose? Do you see those bruises? Your _okay guy_ did that!" Gibbs growled, gesturing towards McGee whose face was now deep shades of purple and black.

"_Alright fine_. I don't know much."

"Well so far you've given us nothing. So anything would be an improvement. We'll start with an easy one. What kind of vehicle does he have?" Gibbs questioned demandingly.

"For the record I hate doing this."

"I'll be sure to note that in my report."

"He drives a Jeep Grand Cherokee."

"Color?"

"Silver. No. Gray."

"Which is it? They're two different colors," McGee questioned growing a little agitated. He just needed some scrap of something solid he could latch on to and run down.

"What do I look like a paint shop? Dark gray I guess."

"What year?"

"I don't know. I didn't go through his glove box or nothing."

"Take a guess!" the team leader pushed him with to get any kind of useful answer.

"Maybe four or five years old."

"Plate?" Tim inquired. He could only hope the other man had noticed something.

"Maine plate. Regular one ya know. Not the fancy ones you can pick."

"Remember the number?"

"Not really."

"Try a little harder!" Gibbs instructed.

"Might have had an R in it I think. That's all I remember."

"How about a description?"

"I just told you it was a Jeep."

"A description of _Jack_."

"Blond hair. Not cut real close. Not too long though. Just like he was in need of a visit to the barber. Usually a little scruff on his face. Blue eyes. The women seem to take to him so good looking," Seavey reluctantly provided. Tim pulled up the license picture he had found and held up his phone so the pub owner could see it.

"This him?" he questioned.

"Nah man. That ain't him."

"Are you sure?" Tim pressed.

"I'm not blind. I worked with him for months I think I would be able to tell. And I am telling you that ain't Jack Cutter. This the guy you are looking for? You mean to tell me you ran Jack off and he wasn't even the one you were looking for."

"Oh no. He's the one. Just confirming the license is a fake," Gibbs responded.

"This keeps getting better and better."

"How tall is he?"

"About his height," the man offered and gestured in McGee's direction with a nod of the head.

"Any distinctive markings? Scars? Tattoos maybe?"

"Not that I can think of. Then again I didn't really go looking."

"Age?" McGee asked.

"Again like with the Jeep didn't go rummaging around in his wallet for id."

"You hired him but didn't ask for id?" Tim shot back.

"Hey, man I –"

"_How old_?" Gibbs snapped at the pub owner.

"Forties. Geez!"

"He speak English?" Gibbs inquired. Maybe the pub owner could confirm McGee's thinking that it was Italian he had heard.

"Uh yeah. Course he does."

"Ever hear him speak anything else?" the team leader asked.

"He knew some Spanish. One night we had a bit of a scene between two customers. They knew some English but mostly talked in Spanish. It got heated and Jack convinced them in Spanish to knock it off or be thrown out."

"Any Italian?"

"Not that I can remember hearing."

"Know where he lives?"

"Up on the hill."

"The hill?"

"Munjoy Hill. Renting a place about a block from the water."

"_The name of the street?_" Gibbs growled out more as a demand than a question.

"Morning Street I think. Only been there once. Dropped him off one night after he got banged up helping me break up a bit of trouble. Refused to go to the hospital so I drove him home. He weren't in no shape to drive himself. He was half out of it. Got his clock knocked pretty hard."

"Where on Morning Street?" Gibbs sniped with his irritation at the man now clearly at its boiling point.

"Right on the corner on the bay end of the street. White building. And _no_ I don't know the street number."

"Let's go McGee."

"Wait Boss. What about the cameras?" Tim questioned and pointed to the camera mounted up in the corner near the end of the bar. The more senior agent checked himself internally. He was starting to go off the rails like he did when a case was real personal. He had actually missed the camera because he had been so focused on getting something out of Seavey. Gibbs tossed his head in a _go ahead_ kind of way.

"The cameras work?" McGee asked Seavey.

"Checked it with the last round of questioning last night. Jack set them up for me. That was the one part of his job he didn't do because the cameras work but apparently he never bothered to connect them to the recorder. So this whole time they were never recording nothin'."

"Can I take a look anyway?" McGee asked hope filled. Maybe there was something.

"Knock yourself out but there's nothing there. Not one minute of recorded video."

"Appreciate it!" McGee responded as both he and Gibbs trailed the pub owner into the back room.

"Right down here in the office," Seavey said as they followed him through the backroom along shelves of supplies and cases of beverages and food containers.

"Cutter work at all back here?" Gibbs inquired.

"Yeah. Like I said man of many hats."

"What are you thinking Boss?" Tim asked him but his question fell at the wayside as the team leader asked the pub owner another inquiry.

"He wear gloves a lot?"

"Sometimes. Why?"

"Because maybe he left some fingerprints or DNA behind."

"Now just hold up there. I answered your questions. I was willing to let you look at the security cameras but fingerprints and DNA that's where I draw the line. I think I want the two of you to leave now. You want anything else then I want to see paperwork like a warrant."

"It would be a big help to us. And we would be very grateful if we might be able to do it. We could do it quickly and quietly to the best of our ability," Tim offered in an attempt to smooth things over.

"Didn't I just tell you to leave?" Seavey replied. He had stopped right in front of the open office door. It was clear they weren't getting any further.

"Come on McGee. Bruce here needs a time out."

"Right behind ya Boss!" the younger man responded. As he trailed Gibbs through the doorway out onto the street he pulled out his phone and began bringing up a map of the local area and searched for the street they were going to next.

"Which way McGee?"

"East of our location. Pull out of the parking spot and up at the light take a left. But Boss maybe Seavey has a point. Maybe we should get warrants on the bar and the apartment first. If we don't it could end up inadmissible in court," McGee answered.

Gibbs listened to his senior field agent. The reply he wanted to say which included something along the lines of _Oh! But it will be admissible in my court of law. I'll be happy to be judge, jury and executioner._

Gibbs knew he was straying farther and farther off the rails. Tim was good at keeping procedures and other similar details at the forefront of his mind as where Gibbs tended to get locked down on the more immediate tangible goal. He knew what the younger agent said was true. He didn't like it but maybe if they could get it quickly it wouldn't hold them back too long and pay off later.

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Making his way through the maze of desks in the squad room Danny St. Clair glanced at his watch. He and his partner, Ethan Nickerson, had been tied up on the Bennett case and his superiors were pushing to keep on it since it was all over the news. There was pressure from the mayor's office to get this squared away fast so they could reassure the public that all was well in their city.

He would have to find a good excuse to slip away soon. He still needed to place the tracking device on Cutter's Jeep. He had vaguely asked the store owner with the camera to keep an eye on the vehicle and if he saw anyone approach it to give him a call. He had disguised the favor with a vague reference that it was for a minor case. It was the only way he could keep an eye on the Jeep since he and Nickerson had been pulled into the boss' office and given the command to wrap up the Bennett case like yesterday.

But planting the bird dog and meeting Billy who would be arriving shortly couldn't be put off so he was going to have to get creative and find a valid excuse to leave – one that didn't include needing his partner to come along too.

He would have to think of something. Just hopefully sooner than later.

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The streets of Portland were still a bit busy as Tobias Fornell finally found a parking spot. He maneuvered the rented Honda into the position and cut the engine. Climbing out he slammed the driver's side door and silently cursed the vehicle. He had only been in possession of it for a short while but he already knew he despised it. Especially in the leg room department he thought as he started to make his way up to the sidewalk. His legs were definitely cramped up. But beggars couldn't be choosers and it was what the airport rental place had available on short notice.

Now up on the sidewalk he headed northward. He had parked his vehicle a ways from where he and Tony were due to meet. With Gibbs around it was better to move on foot the last part of the trek. Tobias subtly scanned the street, the sidewalk, and the buildings as he moved along at a casual pace. If he caught any sign that he was being watched or followed he would have to abort. But so far it looked acceptable.

He did up another button on his black tench coat. The large envelope he had tucked inside it had shifted and was nearly visible. The envelope contained several things including cash and fake identification documents that he would hand off to Dinozzo.

It hadn't taken much for Fornell to find out where Gibbs had raced off to and why. Before he even had to go looking he had heard a news report on the discovery of Devon Davis' body. Then it was just a matter of tapping a few sources to find out about the flight to Pease Air National Guard base in New Hampshire then the rented sedan to Portland, Maine which Gibbs and his team had taken. They were now booked at a hotel downtown.

Trying to hide from Gibbs didn't end well for most people. So there was a fair chance he would have to show himself to the NCIS agent at some point. If need be Fornell would go to Gibbs and be a distraction while DiNozzo slipped out of town. But first he needed to meet with Tony while Gibbs still wasn't aware of his presence. Even if Gibbs had been on the lookout for him travel wise Fornell had used an alias for the flight and the rental. At the very least he needed to sneak in the meet with DiNozzo before Gibbs knew he was there because the last thing they needed was for Fornell to lead Gibbs right to Tony. Fornell needed time to lay out the three exit strategies he had devised and then enact one.

Someone leaned against the wall in a doorway up ahead drew his attention but then lost it again when the man straightened up and went into the apartment looking building. He continued on and at the next corner he took a left down the side street he needed. Torry Street was slightly less busy but still had a car here and there and some foot traffic. He was visually scanning the buildings up ahead when his body was jolted from the right side. Taken by surprise he nearly went for his gun. A person in a hooded jacket, jeans and a baseball cap had bumped into his shoulder. As the person stepped ahead of him they quietly tossed a few words back over their shoulder in Fornell's direction. Only they weren't words of apology for bumping into him.

"Follow me at a distance!" the voice of Anthony DiNozzo Jr. instructed. Then the hooded figure moved ahead on the sidewalk just as swiftly as he had arrived.

_To Be Continued..._

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Thank You Everyone For Reading!

_I am oh so excited about the next upcoming chapter! _

_(And yes that's all the preview you get ahead of time.)_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chasing Jack**

**Chapter Eight**

Sacred Heart Church stood at the corner of Ash Street and Granite Way. Fornell looked up from the sign in front of the building and briefly glanced up at the old brick structure. Even at night he could clearly see it had once been a landmark here in the city. Its traditional design showed its longevity and Tobias concluded that it was likely one of the older churches around. Now, unfortunately, it looked to have fallen into disrepair. He dropped his gaze back to the sidewalk and street up ahead.

His pace was leisurely and he had looked around at the buildings and the area now and again to appear as casual as possible. But he always retained the tall hooded figure within his sight if only just his peripheral vision.

DiNozzo was clad in jeans, work boots, a brown hooded jacket, and Fornell had noted a baseball cap when they had bumped shoulders. But he had not gotten a look at the younger man's face. He found himself wondering if the former NCIS agent was in good health. He imagined that being constantly on the move and trying to stay hidden could wear on a guy after a while. And it had been years since he had last seen the other man.

Tobias prayed he found Tony physically well because he was not sure if he could bear to send the younger man back out on the run by himself if he was ailing. His concern caught him a bit off guard. He wondered where along the way it had developed. Maybe it was the fact that he was all Tony had as a lifeline, the sole connection to a past which he had so reluctantly given up. Or maybe it was simply his own guilt gnawing at him.

They had covered another full block and crossed an intersection before the figure up ahead ducked into an alleyway off to the left. The FBI agent subtly scanned the surrounding area and by the time he reached the alley himself he had seen nothing that raised any red flags. So he too quickly left the sidewalk and headed down the dimly lit passage between what appeared to be two boarded up buildings.

The faint glow from the lights back out on the street was enough to guide his way. And despite some shadowed areas he was able to make out the silhouette of the man walking up ahead of him.

At the back corner of the building a fence immediately began. A few feet along it DiNozzo stopped and then disappeared through what must have been a gap in the boards of the fence. Fornell discovered this was in fact the case as soon as he got to that point. Just as the younger man had done a moment earlier Tobias ducked down and slipped through the space where there were two broken boards that left a sizable hole.

Straightening up he found himself in a fence enclosed area at the rear of the building. He also found himself only a handful of feet from DiNozzo who was squatted down in front of the back doorway to the building. He was working at picking the lock.

"So you've taken to hanging around dark alleyways have you?" Fornell asked with a bit of a smile in his voice.

"Pretty much. The glamorous life of a man on the run," Tony replied quietly without looking up from the doorknob. Fornell suspected that even if he had the hood and the baseball cap would have completely shadowed his face. He still hadn't gotten a proper look at the other man.

Tony reached up and tested the knob on the door. Finding his lock picking successful he stood up and pulled opened the door. Before entering into the darkened interior he gestured with his hand for Fornell to follow. Seeing that Tony dug a small flashlight from his pocket and then pulled a 9mm from his waistband the FBI agent followed suit pulling his own weapon out from under his coat. He would have to rely on DINozzo's light though to guide him.

Silently they made their way inside with Tony in the lead. Fornell could tell by the way DiNozzo moved swiftly and effortlessly through the maze of hallways and rooms that he had been here before. Probably more than once. It hadn't been necessary to speak it so Tobias knew they were simply checking to make sure the building was clear of unwanted company before they could speak openly.

After they had reached and cleared the fifth room on the second floor and all those that came before it Tony's posture relaxed and he holstered his weapon. At first Tobias was a bit reluctant to store his away but when Tony turned without any hesitation and headed back down the hallway they had just come along he realized maybe he was being a tad paranoid. DiNozzo seemed comfortable now. The man knew this place and was confident of its safety. So as he trailed behind the younger man down the hallway he too holstered his weapon.

They passed back by the stairs and went into the second room on the left. Finally Tony stopped moving and Fornell spoke up.

"How you holding up, kid?" the FBI agent inquired. The other man turned around towards him but his face was still not visible. He responded after a short silent beat.

"Well, I'm not dead yet. And I haven't ended up in a psych ward. And today I managed to remember my real name. So where does that fall on the scale of incredibly amazingly fantastic to horrendously unequivocally horrible?" he asked in a tone that was mostly light. But he had not managed to completely hide the strain in his voice.

"Sorry can't help you there. I left my flow chart for that scale in the car. Good to see you DiNozzo."

"Likewise. I don't believe I just said that."

"Hadn't heard from you in a while. A long while."

"You thought I was dead, didn't you?" Tony tossed out as he moved to the closet that was located in far corner of the windowless room. He shone the beam of his flashlight around the floor inside it then reached up and retrieved a hammer from the top shelf. Clearly he had known it was there since the flashlight beam had never landed upon it. Fornell gathered he had been the one to put it there in the first place.

"When did I say that?" the FBI agent questioned in reference to the suggestion that he thought Tony was dead.

"Didn't have to it was written all over your face."

"It's pitch black in here how'd you manage that?"

"You said it yourself. I've taken to hanging out in _dark _alleyways. Grown accustom to seeing in the pitch blackness I guess."

"Well, you did go quiet for quite a long stretch there. It was either dead or you severed all ties and put Anthony DiNozzo Jr. to rest once and for all," Fornell explained.

"That first one nearly happened a couple times. Nothing to do with The Wheel though. Just my magnetism for bodily harm. But mostly the second thing. Did my best to separate from my old identity. Had to. Living in both worlds was – well – not good."

"What happened?"

"You mean the nearly getting me dead part, right?" Tony questioned as he took the hammer which was grasped in his hand and began to use the claw side to pry up one of the floorboards in the closet. The FBI agent wasn't sure he even wanted to ask what the younger man was doing so he just answered the question.

"That'd be the one."

"Well, let's see! While working at a ski place in Washington I almost got killed by an avalanche. Like in Avalanche, 1978, with Rock Hudson and Mia Farrow. Or that disaster flick Avalanche Alley. In Tulsa a tornado nearly took me out. It was very surreal. Very Wizard Of Oz-ish. Not sure I'll ever be able to watch that movie again. And I guess Twister is out too. I pissed off this massive flock of crows in St. Louis and I kid you not they chased me. _The Birds. _Alfred Hitchcock. 1963. There's another movie that's out. Then in Savannah I was working on the back green at a golf course when a sudden thunderstorm rolls in and I nearly get my ass fried by lightning racing back to the clubhouse. Can't think of a movie on that one but I'm off my game somewhat. Let's see...," Tony said but his voice trailed off while he pondered silently.

"There's more? Kid, you are more than a magnet for bodily harm," Tobias declared. DiNozzo had finished prying up one board and was working on a second as he spoke again.

"Abby use to tell me I must have pissed off the cosmos in a former life. I'm beginning to think she had a point."

"If not the cosmos then at least Mother Nature," Fornell suggested.

"Yeah she does seem to have a bee in her bonnet about something I did."

"Sounds like you've had quite the couple of years."

"It wasn't all bad I guess. It had it's moments. But what I wouldn't have given to have been working cases and running down leads with the team this whole time!" Tony stated. He dropped the hammer on the floor and tugged at the board which finally gave and came loose from its neighbors.

"Nothing worse than a born cop who can't be a cop anymore," Tobias commented as he moved across the room to look into the closet where DiNozzo was knelt down.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" the younger man snapped and twisted to look up Fornell. He suspected if he had been able to see Tony's face he would have found himself being glared at.

"Hold up there. I didn't mean anything by it," he responded to the former NCIS agent who had already returned his attention to the task at hand.

"Ha! Got it!" Tony said triumphantly.

"Hold this!" he continued and held up the flashlight for the FBI agent to take from him. Tobias took the light and shone its beam towards the hole the other man had created in the floor. He could see there was something wrapped in heavy duty black plastic stowed away under the floorboards. Tony reached down and tugged an extra large industrial type plastic bag out of the tight space between the floor and the ceiling boards below. Standing up he dragged it out of the closet while Tobias stepped aside to clear the way. The FBI agent couldn't help but comment.

"First dark alleyways. Now duct taped black plastic bags under floorboards in boarded up buildings. What's next? Clandestine meetings in smoke filled back rooms of biker bars."

"Been there. Done that," Tony replied flatly. Somehow Fornell knew he hadn't been kidding. He watched as the other man took out a knife and cut into the black plastic. A few minutes later DiNozzo had pulled a large hiking pack, a duffle bag, and a sleeping bag out and placed them on the floor.

"I'm guessing that didn't just happen to be there," Fornell commented.

"Safe house. I set up two here in the city. Spent last night at the first one. This is humble abode number two."

"Good thinking. Clearly you have got this done to a science."

"Done it in the last four towns. This is the first time actually had to use one," Tony replied. He unzipped one of the compartments of the pack and dug around for a few seconds. He pulled something out. Tobias heard a click and a mini camping lantern came to life.

"And there was light!" DiNoxxo announced. The little lantern illuminated enough of the room that Tobias shut off the flashlight and handed it back to the younger man. Tony took it and tucked it into the hiking pack. He then pulled a few more items out from another compartment and stood up. He brought the lantern and the other items over to a rather rickety looking metal table which stood against the far wall and set them down. Two equally rickety looking chairs were stationed on either side of the small square table.

"It ain't the Ritz but feel free to try and make yourself comfortable," Tony offered. Tobias took him up on the offer and moved to the table. After brushing some of the dust away from the seat of the chair he sat down and surprisingly found the chair more sturdy than it looked.

DiNozzo sat down across from him with the lantern between them on the table. He pushed back the hood of his jacket and removed the baseball cap. He discarded it on the table next to the light. Tobias couldn't help but react verbally.

"Wow. Blond hair huh? It's really..._ummm_...," Tobias commented upon getting his first look at the younger man.

"It's really what?" Tony inquired playing at being offended.

"_Blond_."

"Hey. What's wrong with it? It's very California surfer dude. Anyway, I was running out of colors," Tony replied and ran a hand through his already ruffled up golden blond hair.

"Colors?" Fornell questioned.

"To dye it. I've been through just about every shade. Couple of them more than once. At least I have enough hair to dye unlike some," DiNozzo came back with.

"Hey now! Is that any way to treat someone you're asking help from?"

"My bad. Old habits die hard."

'Well if you're going for the surfer look I guess the blue contacts were a no brainer."

"Another thing I am running out of colors on. Contact lenses," Tony replied.

Then they sat for a moment in silence. It looked like to Tobias that the other man simply needed a minute to be able to sit and catch his breath. It was good though because it gave the FBI agent a minute to look him over. He was relived to find the younger man in relatively good health. He appeared a bit leaner than the last time they had met but it was in an athletic way not a sickly one. And he looked worn out but who could blame him for that.

Tobias gave Tony a minute to just sit with his eyes closed and breath. He busied himself with the items the other man had placed on the table. There were several maps, a stack of transportation schedules, a notebook and a couple of pens. Fornell picked up the map of Portland and began looking it over. After a few still minutes Tony finally spoke but his voice was quiet and weary.

"I feel like I'm in a movie. Ya know like in..._in_...I am totally blanking here. I really am losing my mind. I've forgotten how to make movie references. Those ones earlier must have been the bottom of the barrel. This is my worse nightmare."

"Well, you are under some stress," Fornell commented without looking up from the map.

"True. Having Gibbs hunting you down would be stressful for anyone. And given what I did I bet he's out for my blood."

"Why? What did you do?" the FBI agent questioned and lifted his attention up away from the map to the man seated across from him.

"Ya know how yesterday I said I was sure I lost them?"

"Why do I feel like I am not going to like what I am about to hear?"

"Because you won't Fornell. It's going to make getting Gibbs off my tail really hard – if not impossible."

"Go on."

"McGee may have caught up to me."

"Did he see you?"

"Relax. I had a jacket on with the hood up covering my head. He had no idea it was me."

"What happened?" Tobias asked. Tony blew out a heavy breath then spoke up.

"Well there I am earning my pay – a fortune it was not. I'm in the back room of the joint -Traveler's Pub - and I look up to see Gibbs and McGee on the security monitor. They are right there in the next room. Needless to say after I was done freaking out I ran. Only the pub owner must have given me up or rather gave Jack Cutter up. My latest alias. Anyway, I hightail it out the back door with McGee on my ass. I come to a fence and while I'm climbing over it he catches up and grabs my leg. So we play tug of war for a while with me trapped halfway over the fence. McGee's got the leg where I have my gun secured. And I'm thinking this is not going to end well unless I get away like right then. Not even to mention that Gibbs is around someplace - probably circling around from the front."

"Sounds like a good old time. How'd you get away?"

"I kicked McGee in the face. He let go. And I went over the fence."

"So now not only is Gibbs on your trail he is royally pissed."

"Oh but it gets better."

"I don't think I even want to hear this," Fornell replied. He got up from the chair and began wandering the room in a near pacing manner.

"I'm pretty sure you don't."

"Great."

"After the whole Gibbs and McGee chase scene I made a go at getting back to my apartment to see if I could grab a few things. While I was staking it out to see if it was safe I saw an undercover cop hanging around then he checked the mailboxes. I'm guessing to get the apartment number for Jack Cutter. Then he disappears round back of the building probably to break in and search my place. Or ya know lay in wait to kill me."

"So now not only do you have a very pissed off Gibbs on your tail you have the cops."

"Oh! It gets worse."

"Worse? You're killing me here DiNutso."

"The Wheel."

"_Come again?_"

"The cop that was at my apartment. He was with The Wheel."

"You're sure?"

"One hundred percent."

"I think I need to sit down."

"Probably a good idea. Either you have been spending a lot of time at the North Pole or you've just gone really pale."

"You realize I came up here with three exit strategies for you and now I doubt any of them are any good. Not a viable one in the bunch."

"I've been on the run for four years. Do you really think I would have risked calling you if I thought it would be easy."

"A guy can dream, right?" Fornell proposed inside a feigned chuckle.

"That's an expensive luxury," DiNozzo replied. But Tobias noticed that the comment had no life to it. No teasing spark. Fornell stopped pacing and looked at the other man for a long silent moment. Tony finally broke under the scrutiny.

"What?" he asked.

"You're different DiNutso."

"Well pretending to be imaginary people for four years will do that to a guy. At least it did to me. I changed identities like I changed my pants."

"I am sorr...," the FBI agent began to answer.

"Don't Fornell. Just don't!" Tony stated rather firmly cutting him off from finishing the apology.

"Okay. I won't. I mean it though."

"I know."

"The Wheel huh? Any idea how they picked up your trail? Or even how they knew you were alive?" Fornell inquired and found his way back to his chair and plopped down tiredly into it.

"Am I alive? Not feeling the alive thing much lately. Maybe I'm a zombie. Maybe that's it! I'm in a zombie flick."

"Nah. You're way too tan for that."

"Drove myself crazy – or more crazy – last night going every move I have made since this all went down. And there's only one thing I can think of. Someone who knew me while I was in The Wheel saw me someplace and I didn't see them. I moved. I changed my identity. I altered my appearances. Over and over. It had to be someone who knew me. I should have left the country from the get go."

"Why didn't you? We talked about it. You always shot me down."

"I had a couple good opportunities. One of them could have gotten me down to the South American countries and I could have gotten lost in one of the larger cities. Or made a connection to get somewhere else. I don't know. Something held me back. It seemed so _final_. Might not have made much difference I guess. The Wheel does have an international presence. Not as strong as here but there's some. But I just couldn't seem to leave. Getting back in the country would have been real difficult if something had happened."

"To Gibbs and the team you mean?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Either way clearly I waited too long to get out of Dodge."

"Yeah that twenty twenty hindsight thing is an bitch, ain't it?" Tobias offered lightheartedly.

"Are you trying to make me feel better or worse, Fornell?"

"I was going for better. What can I say I'm a caring guy," the FBI agent stated. To this the younger man just let out a chuckle and shook his head. So Fornell continued.

"Why didn't you tell me about The Wheel sooner? I could have accounted for it in my exit strategies."

"The call was already risky as it was. I wasn't about to start rambling on about them on a cell phone."

"I see your point. I guess I just hoped I could be of more use in getting you out of this jam. Because right now I have little that's viable."

"Why don't you lay out what you've got. Maybe with my knowledge of the city we can modify at least one so it's viable."

"Worth a try. Oh and these are for you," Tobias responded and pulled the thick envelope from where it was tucked inside his coat. He put it down on the tabletop and slid it over to the other man.

"What's this?" Tony asked and picked up the envelope to take a peek inside.

"Cash and some more ids for you. Hope it helps."

"Two of my favorite things these days. Thanks. There's not names like Bernie or Herman or Claude on these are there?"

"Not a Bernie in the bunch."

"Phew. Cuz I can't see myself pulling any of those off with a straight face."

"So Jack Cutter huh?"

"Yeah. And it's a alias I will never forget. He's the one got me in this jam. The one who Gibbs is probably hunting down as we speak. Do you know how he got on my trail anyhow?"

"Not exactly. But I'm certain it has something to do with the other piece of news I needed to tell you. Devon Davis is dead."

"You're kidding me?"

"Found dead in a run down apartment in Virginia. I was out of town when it happened. And Gibbs swooped in and ripped the case right out of the local PD's hands."

"So something linked to the Davis' case lead him to me. Or rather to Jack."

"Best I can gather yeah. Some piece of evidence or a witness maybe. I haven't spoken with him since I found out. Not a conversation I am looking forward to."

"I bet. Was he pissed? Ya know back then."

"Pissed is putting it mildly. I was lucky I walked away with just a black eye. Actually I'm lucky I could walk away at all. I don't think I've ever seen Jethro's face quite that shade of enormously pissed off."

"Are they...I mean...ya know...on second thought never mind," Tony began to ask but had stumbled to a change of heart by the end. Tobias knew what he was was asking though. He could see it in the younger man's eyes. So he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table to be a slightly closer then answered quietly but firmly.

"They're alive. That's what counts. Your sacrifice kept it that way," he offered. Tony cleared his throat before answering with a change of subject. As he spoke he pulled several folded pieces of paper from his jacket pocket.

"Before I forget this list is for you. It's some things I've recalled over the years about my time with The Wheel. Things that at first didn't seem important or useful. But now looking back on it might be worth checking into," he said and handed the papers over to the other man.

"Definitely take a look. Wouldn't be surprised if you hit upon something that seemed unimportant at that time that we could use now."

"Alright. I guess we should get down to business huh? I've got the cops, The Wheel and a fantastically pissed off Gibbs on my tail so it's time to get creative or maybe just desperate. I'm not sure which," Tony declared.

The pair settled in and went through the FBI agent's three plans. Then bounced around some other thoughts. What with the Wheel closing in and having a local cop on the payroll to boot use of any public transportation would be tricky. It was likely The Wheel had eyes keeping watch at all the typical points of exit. And it would be risky for Fornell to transport him since it would draw attention and possibly put the FBI agent in danger. They managed to rework one of Fornell's exit strategies that involved use of a marina just up the road a piece. The local cop probably had informants, Wheel or otherwise, watching Portland harbor. But if Tobias could get manage to get Tony two towns up the coast there was possible contact to utilize. Fornell had been looking to buy a boat from a little family owned boatmaking company up that way and knew some people to tap for information. They drafted out a few more alternate plan outlines. But the discussion kept coming back around to one thing. It was Fornell who voiced it this time around.

"I'm tending to agree with you here. Your vehicle might be your best out. I used an alias to come up here but with The Wheel watching it would be difficult for me to get you a new car. Risky."

"It would take a while to link the car to me since it's registered under Jonathan Cutters not Jack Cutter. My alias is Jonathan Cutter on paper. But to everyone I'm Jack. And I tacked the S on the end of the last name on some paperwork and managed to get it through. So those looking are looking for Jack Cutter not Jonathan Cutters."

"So it's decided. I'll go check out the Jeep. See if it's still there. See if it's being watched."

"Or if it's rigged to go boom."

"That too. Although I might not be able to check under the hood if there are people around. But I definitely can get a good look underneath."

"The street where it's parked has quite a bit of street and foot traffic. Under the hood might not be doable," Tony replied as he unhooked a spare key for the Jeep from his key ring and handed to the FBI agent.

"It's a dark gray Jeep Grand Cherokee. Maine plate RT423. It's parked midway down the block from the corner of Pine Street and Cross Court near a place called the Full Belly Deli."

"I'll see what I can manage. Do the best I can to see that's it's safe for you. In case it's no good we'll have to meet back up and go with the marina up the coast. Got a meet place? Probably shouldn't come back here."

"Been thinking on that. With Gibbs around might not be good to risk another meet if it's not necessary. So here's what I am thinking. Did you see the church a little ways back?"

"Yeah. Sacred Heart I think it was called."

"Yep. Take a left onto Ash Street at the corner where the church stands. There's this one show movie theater called The Spotlight Tonight."

"Sounds sketchy."

"It's kind of a hole in the wall but, boy, can they pick some great flicks for their one screen. They have fantastic popcorn too. Anyway, their doorway is kind of set back a little into the building so there's a small covered entryway. There's a metal box like the kind of mailbox you would hang beside the front door of a house. It's on the wall beside the doorway. Inside there are flyers for what the show of the week is going to be. If the Jeep is a go then come back through and stop and take a flyer. I'll be watching. If you stop I'll try for the Jeep. If it's not a go keep walking by the theater. We can meet at 0100 hours at the back of the church."

"Wish us luck!" Fornell teased.

"Very good luck to us!" Tony replied enthusiastically in jest.

"Now if I can just get out of this joint without falling down the stairs or running into any walls we'll be on our way."

"What kind of host would I be if I didn't show you out?" Tony said feigning being insulted.

"Lead the way!" the FBI agent responded.

Tony picked up the little lantern from the table and lead the way back down the hallway to the stairs. In silence they descended and then wove their way to the rear doorway which they had come through when they entered the building. They stopped at the closed door and turned to face one another.

The light from the lantern was enough for Tobias to catch the hint of sadness that flashed in the younger man's eyes at arriving at their parting. But it was fleeting and in a breath was gone. No doubt deliberately chased away by the man standing before him as he struggled to keep his emotions in check and take care of business. DiNozzo was tougher than most gave him credit for – even Fornell himself at one time. Even more likely by himself.

"Thanks for everything Fornell!" Tony said quietly and offered his hand out in front of him.

"Take care out there DiNoz – Tony," the FBI replied and accepted the offered hand. After a quick handshake he turned to leave but Tony clearing his throat stopped him.

"If the Jeep pans out you won't hear from me. I can't do this again. Have my old life brought to the surface. I can't keep a clear head with my old life mixed in. It's too...," he started then paused. Tony looked away off down the darkened hallway for an instant then back to Fornell.

"Hard. Painful," Tobias suggested.

"Something like that. Anyway, I was hoping you might hang onto something for me. Ya know just in case," Tony responded and pulled a single piece of folded paper from inside his jacket. He handed it to Fornell.

"What's this?" the FBI agent questioned.

"A letter. For my team. In case I don't make it."

"You'll make it, kid. If avalanches, tornadoes, crazed animals and lightning can't take you down then The Wheel doesn't stand a chance in hell."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'll do my best to live up to it."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

"Roger that."

"Keep your six DiNozzo!" Fornell instructed then slipped out through the doorway and out into the night.

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"Around back!" Gibbs instructed Ziva and Moore as the team of four approached the white multi-unit building on the corner of Morning Street and Eastern Promenade. The warrant on Jack Cutter's apartment had come through – no doubt with a little influence or a call or two from Director Vance helping it along the way.

The landlord of the apartment building lived a few streets over. They had just come from paying him a visit. After skimming over the warrant the man who had a definite used car salesman aura about him had reluctantly given up a copy of the keys to the front door and Cutter's apartment.

Now the team leader and his senior field agent split off from Ziva and Moore as they all stepped up onto the sidewalk and headed towards the building. The other two went right and then turned off the sidewalk to head down the driveway towards the rear of the building. He and McGee went left and cut across the lawn.

In the event this Jack fellow got the bright idea to run from them again he wanted them to be prepared. So he and McGee would enter the front and David and Moore would head around back.

The building seemed quiet despite the hour. It was getting later in the evening and that usually increased the odds of a lot of residents being at home. It also increased the odds of a lot of innocent bystanders getting caught in the way if Cutter decided to shoot his way to escaping. They knew Cutter had a handgun. McGee had felt it strapped against the man's leg during their little tug of war match. He could also have more weapons at his place. The question was just how desperate Cutter might get and what would be his breaking point. Last thing Gibbs needed was for this to turn into a firefight. His gut still maintained that Cutter knew something and they needed to capture him alive.

Ever vigilant he and McGee entered in through the main door and located the stairs. Gibbs put up a hand to indicate that McGee should wait by the stairs. He then found the back entrance and let the other two agents in. He had instructed them earlier not to pick the lock so they could maintain by the book procedure on this one. Gibbs pointed out the back stairwell which he had located on his way to the door and the two younger agents headed up. Gibbs returned to McGee and they proceeded up the front stairs.

A few moments later all four met near the door that was numbered 209. Gibbs gestured for all of them to get against the wall. He and McGee took the left and the other two the right. Once in position Gibbs reached over and landed a solid knock on the door. When there was no movement inside he knocked again but with more force this time. Still no response.

"Jack Cutter. Federal agents! We have a warrant!" he called out. Seconds ticked by with no reaction. So finally Gibbs pulled the key from his pocket and while still standing clear of the door unlocked it. Weapons drawn they made entry and proceeded to clear the apartment. It didn't take long since the place was small – a bedroom, a small bathroom, and a combined kitchen and living room area. Jack Cutter was definitely not there.

Without even discussing it the four agents drifted in different directions. Each holstered their weapon and tugged on gloves. Moore took the bathroom. Ziva the bedroom. Gibbs and McGee took the main room with Gibbs working the kitchen area and Tim in the living room. The senior field agent was the first to speak.

"I guess this guy really doesn't like having his picture taken. Not a single photo here either so far."

"Probably has a real interesting reason for that too. I know I would like to hear it!" Gibbs replied as he searched the kitchen cabinets. McGee stopped moving and visually surveyed the room for moment then spoke.

"This Jack guy sure lives simply. Nice but minimal furniture. Clutter free. I don't see much of any paperwork around. A couple utility bills over there on the kitchen table but other than that no paper trail," he commented.

"Gee and why do you think that would be, McGee?" the team lead asked without looking up from his inspection of the contents of the refrigerator.

"Well, I guess...uh..."

"Think."

"He travels light. Ready to run."

"Bingo."

"Oh! See now here we go! A remote control. Might have prints. I mean really who cleans their remote," McGee commented.

"Get started on that. We'll need to see about lifting as many prints as we can or any DNA source you can find. Collect every little trace you can find. I want to know who this guy is," Gibbs instructed as he took out his pen flashlight and shone the beam about the kitchen in search of anything of use.

"Good luck with that. So far I haven't seen so much as a single smudged print – not even a hair. Usually the couch is a good place to find them but it looks like this couch has been gone over with tweezers. Even this remote is pretty clean. Nothing more than maybe a shred of a partial on the back. This guy is either very into cleaning or seriously paranoid." McGee stated glancing around the living room then over at his boss.

"Here in the kitchen too. This place has been wiped down regularly. And there's not even anything in the trash can."

"Trash day maybe?" Tim suggested.

"No. He's deliberately removing it probably daily if not more frequently. He's keeping the DNA and prints and any other identifying information down to as little as possible."

"Maybe in the dumpster?"

"We'll check but my bet is he's taking the trash off site and leaving it in someone else's dumpster," the team leader stated. After a silent beat McGee piped up.

"Very few personal items too. Except some books, mostly worn out hardcovers, over here on the bookcase. Surprisingly, there are some classics here," McGee replied as he moved to get a closer look at the bookcase and its contents. He picked up The Great Gatsby and flipped through it. Finding nothing he put it back and picked up The Count of Monte Cristo. This time he found something rather interesting tucked inside its pages.

"Boss, got something here."

"Hang on McGee!" Gibbs' muffled voice replied. The senior field agent looked into the kitchen area to see why Gibbs had been so hard to hear. He found the team leader on his back on the floor with his upper body inside the cupboard under the sink. McGee had no idea what the boss thought he would find in there but he wasn't about to question it.

"Okay," he replied and went back to the book in his hand. He closed it and laid it aside on the shelf. He selected a hardcover copy of 1984 and opened it. Nothing there in that one. He put it back in its spot and continued done the line of books.

He checked the inside of each one putting back those which produced nothing and setting aside those that contained something of interest tucked away inside. He had just slid Catcher in the Rye back into its place when he heard movement from the doorway that lead into the bedroom and the connected bathroom. He turned to find Moore coming through the doorway out into the living room and kitchen area. He was tailed by Ziva.

McGee noticed that Gibbs had come out from under the sink and was now at the kitchen table looking through the utility bills. Moore was the first to speak.

"Alright I might not be a shrink but, man, this guy Cutter he has issues."

"Such as?" Ziva questioned.

"Clearly you weren't the one going over the bathroom."

"But you were so what did you find?" she replied.

"It's not so much what I found as what I didn't find. For example, I didn't find a used toothbrush. Only ones still in the package. I didn't find any trash in the wastebasket not even a piece of lint. I didn't find a single hair in the combs I found. Even used my Swiss army knife to unscrew the drain cover in the tub. Most people forget to clean under there and it's a good place to find hairs. But nope he cleaned in there too. Either he's like way, way and I mean _way_ OCD or he doesn't actually use the bathroom. And I am not sure which of those two options is more disturbing. Are we sure he actually lives here?" Moore explained. Ziva was the one to reply again.

"Well I did find some clothes in the bedroom closet. Mostly casual clothing. No suits or anything. So far no hairs or trace there either. The sheets and blankets on the bed must have been washed since he last slept in the bed. Nothing there either. There's a few boxes of ammo in the bed table drawer. Eagle Eye 9mm."

"There's a small caliber firearm taped behind the toilet," Moore offered.

"I found a 9 mil in a cereal box in the kitchen," Gibbs added from his spot standing by the table. McGee jumped right in after him.

"Me too. Pepper spray, small caliber weapon, and handcuffs in a couple of hardcover books. He cut out parts of the pages to fit whatever it was he was hiding inside. It's like something out of a movie," he commented. Ziva added on to the list.

"Yes I too found something. There's a baseball bat under the bed. And a knife between the top end of the mattress and the headboard. Another taped to the back of the mirror above the dresser."

"Lot of weapons. But otherwise clean as a whistle," McGee responded. Moore looked around the spotless organized living room and kitchen then spoke up.

"This place reminds me of Grandpa Teddy. He was kind of a neat freak. Always said the military made him that way. He also had weapons tucked away in places round the house too. I miss Too Tall."

"Too Tall?" Tim questioned.

"Yeah everybody used to call him Too Tall Teddy. He was six feet eight inches. His name was really Theodore but everybody knew him as Teddy. I miss him and Grammie Betty too. Boy, she was a wild one. They called her Machete Betty. Betty wasn't her real name either of course. It was Elizabeth but everybody called her Betty. Thinking of her reminds me I need to call my cousin Skippy."

"Does anyone in your family just go by their actual name?" Ziva inquired.

"Never really thought about it. I mean people call me Ro which is a nickname. Nobody ever calls me Roger."

"Perhaps because you got sick of hearing Roger Moore - James Bond jokes?" Tim proposed.

"Nope. They always just called me Ro even when I was little. No one ever called me Roger," he answered. After he finished speaking something in what the other agent had been saying clicked into place inside McGee's head and his face lit up.

"That's it. Ro, you are a genius!" he said as realization truly struck him.

"Okay. Thanks I think. Can I ask what I said that qualified me for that status?" Moore responded.

"His name! It's not Jack. Jack is his nickname! On paper he'd be John or Jonathan Cutter. Maybe Jacob Cutter. That's why I couldn't find much on him especially his car registration. This is great."

"Glad my genius was helpful to you," Moore said jokingly.

"Evidence isn't collecting itself," Gibbs commented.

"I did find a smudge on the dresser. Might be a partial print," Ziva offered. Gibbs voice followed hers.

"Okay everybody get to work. Photographs. Collect the weapons and ammo and anything else that might be useful. Any trace of prints even partials and anything that might have DNA. It's late so we'll start there and come back in the morning to talk to the neighbors and go over it again. Get a move on! I don't want to be here all night."

The other three agents ignited into to action all at the same moment and went back to the areas that they had been working previously. Gibbs stood at the island in the kitchen and looked around. Something was bugging him. Cutter had cleaned this place and not just of evidence of anything illegal. Well, spare the weapons with the serials missing that is – at least until Abby got her hands on them.

This man had scrubbed the place down to make it deliberately difficult to obtain any identifying information. The run of the mill criminal or even the average Joe off the street wouldn't know how to go about that successfully.

What really struck him hard was that this was the way he would have done it if he didn't want to be found. Cutter had done this in the way a military man or cop would have gone about it.

Jack Cutter was not who he had first appeared to be. There was something more complicated going on here. Gibbs only hoped he could figure it in time to find Cutter before The Wheel did.

He glanced at his watch. It really was getting late. They would work just a few more minutes then call it a night. He headed back into the kitchen to retrieve the firearm he had found earlier in that box of Frosted Flakes. There had also been some ammo in a butter container on the refrigerator door he would have to collect.

This Jack Cutter guy was a bit of a strange duck but he was sort of oddly endearing in how he went about things.

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A breeze had kicked up and Tobias stuffed his chilled hands into the deep pockets of his coat. He had just finished checking on Tony's Jeep. It was now a few streets behind him as he walked back towards their designated signal spot. The vehicle had looked good spare the parking ticket stuck under the wiper. He had glanced inside it and then, accidentally on purpose, he had dropped his keys so that he was able to get a look underneath when he retrieved them. And checked the vehicle as best he could without drawing attention to himself. Before even approaching it he had watched it from a distance for a while. No one else seemed to be watching it beside him.

Fornell had also noticed a sign that indicated there was no parking tonight on that street so that street sweeper could come through. Any vehicle still there at midnight would be towed. So DiNozzo would have to make a move for it shortly.

Noting the street signs up at the intersection he recalled the map Tony had showed him and realized he needed to take a left here. He had only just come around the corner when he saw the rented sedan with Gibbs seated at the wheel approaching the light at the intersection. Fornell glanced around but there simply wasn't anywhere he could duck into to get out of sight. The thought was broken by the screeching of brakes. The NCIS agent had spotted him. He had jerked the car to an abrupt halt in the middle of the street. Fornell stopped walking and watched as Gibbs put the car in reverse for a few feet and then shifted again and haphazardly pulled off the street near the curb. It wasn't even a parking space. The driver's side door flew open and Gibbs jumped out before the vehicle even settled. The others started to climb out but not as swiftly.

"_Ah crap!_" Fornell swore under his breath. It was like Gibbs had some kind of sonar or homing device or something. And it got really irritating sometimes. Before he could think on that any longer Gibbs was in front of him.

"What the hell are you doing here Fornell?" he questioned. There was a strong bite to the words. Tobias attempted to remain unfazed as he replied.

"What am I doing here? Well let's review shall we. I'm only out in the field for a mere two days and when I get back I find out Devon Davis is dead, you took over the case, and are racing around all over creation."

"Yeah. So? Your point?" Gibbs shot back.

"The Wheel is the FBI's. My case Gibbs. Not yours. Long before NCIS had any involvement. So I have dibs on any leads you might have acquired. I'm not letting you just swipe it right out from under my nose."

"Like hell. You had your chance and royally screwed it up. You cost me DiNozzo!" Gibbs snapped.

"And if there was anything I could do to change the way things went down I would do it in a heartbeat. But it's done. The Wheel case belongs to the FBI. And NCIS needs to keep their noses out of it. Whatever lead you've picked up. It's mine. Go home Gibbs."

"Oh no! I'm not going anywhere Tobias. You want me gone because you know more than you are letting on. There's something here isn't there? Something you don't want me to find. Something that I am real close to finding and it's got you panicked."

"You've really gone around the bend with your paranoia haven't you Jethro? There's nothing I'm hiding. I just don't want you messing around in my case."

"If that were the truth - _which it's not_. You could have delivered that message with a phone call. But you didn't. You came all the way up here. Now you tell me why you're here or I swear you won't like what comes next. "

"What? You'll deck me. We've already been there. Why don't we try something new and different and you get your nose out of my case."

"Okay, maybe we should all take a step back and cool off," McGee interjected.

"Stay out this McGee!" both of the older men yelled at the same time.

"Right. Staying out of it."

"Okay. Okay. I did come up here because I was pissed you stuck your NCIS nose in my case. But there was something else."

"And?"

"A boat that's up here I'm thinking of buying and having delivered down to me back home. There's a great boatmaking company here in Portland. While I came up here to get you out of my business I figured I could check it out in person," Fornell stated. He figured might as well just use the truth, fudged a little by change of location, so that it wouldn't set off Gibbs' gut anymore than it already had been.

"Bullshit Tobias. You don't like sailing. Never even heard you talk about boats."

"I just don't care for the kind one builds in their basement. Doesn't mean I don't like the kind that you get already put together."

"I'm not buying it."

"Why are you so interested Gibbs in what I do. Maybe I came here to help. Ever think of that. But then again I don't know why I bothered it's not known that you are any good at accepting it. Don't you have anyone else to harass for your own twisted entertainment?"

"Why would I need anyone else when I have you. You're the most deserving."

"It's my case Gibbs. Was from the get go."

"Yeah. And you effed it up. And cost me my best agent!"

"You don't have to remind me. I was there remember!" Fornell snapped back.

"I'd like to remind you every last day of your life! You had no business using one of _my_ agents for your suicide mission. Especially when you couldn't even have his six. I hope you remember that until the moment that you die. You cost DiNozzo his life. And there is not a chance in hell I will ever let you forget it!"

"I have no doubt about that. But know this. I did the best I could with what I had to work with. I made some tough decisions. Some that, yes, I look back on now and regret. I did what I had to do. DiNozzo could have walked away but he chose to take the assignment. Could have asked Vance to be excused. But he didn't. I had your Director's endorsement. The...," Tobias explained before being cut off abruptly.

"_Not another word! _ You don't get to make excuses for what happened to him. The blame - it's all yours. Don't you _dare_ put this on DiNozzo! One more word blaming him and I will shoot you dead right where you stand now. You hear me Tobias?"

"Gibbs. There's a lot you don't unders...," he started to say but the other man had reached the end of his fuse for patience. Not that it was a very long one to begin with.

"Go to hell Fornell!" Gibbs called out as he stormed back to the driver's side of the sedan. The other three agents scrambled to in get back into the vehicle as Gibbs slammed his door closed and started the engine.

Fornell watched as Gibbs pulled out into traffic as recklessly as he had parked. The light at the intersection was green and the NCIS agent spared no time careening around the corner to the right.

"That went well!" Fornell said jokingly to himself. He knew that Gibbs would not give up that easily. He suspected that the only reason the other man had left was so that he could get out of sight and then have him followed. Gibbs was probably letting an agent or two out of the sedan at that very moment. That meant Tobias would have to take the long way around to their planned exchange.

Unfortunately, they didn't have a lot of time to play with if DiNozzo was going to get to the Jeep before it was towed. Although even if he couldn't lose the tail Gibbs would set after him it might still work. All he was doing was signaling Tony not actually meeting him. The signal itself was fairly innocuous so if he ran out of time trying to shake whoever had been sent to follow it could still play out with them none the wiser. Unless it was Gibbs himself then they had a problem.

Fornell set off again down the sidewalk. He would take a little scenic foot tour of the city and see what or rather who tagged along behind him for the trip. He hoped Team Gibbs had worn their walking shoes because they were going to need them if they planned on tailing him until he stopped.

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Danny St. Clair casually glanced around as he walked down along the sidewalk on Pine Street. He had finally managed to slip away from the Bennett case using his disabled brother as an excuse. He hadn't cared for using Drew as the reason to leave but he was short on time and believable ideas.

He had left his pickup truck parked on the next street over. Before departing it he had made two calls. The first had been to a buddy he had in the city's public works department. He had asked a small favor by cashing in a few owed him. He hinted to his buddy that they had a case going on over on Pine and maybe perhaps he could make sure the street sweeper came to that street last out of the area that they were working tonight.

His buddy, a shift supervisor, had said it wouldn't be a problem and had wished him luck with whatever the detective had going on. And Danny hoped that luck panned out as he now neared the dark gray Jeep Grand Cherokee.

The second call had been to Billy Greene letting him know he was delayed and why. Greene had altered the plan and told him they would come to him instead. The word _they _had piqued his curiosity. Greene had at least one other person with him. Danny wondered if it was another leader or maybe perhaps the Wheel member who had dealt with Bennett. He didn't bother asking. He would find out soon enough.

He had told Billy about still needing to bird dog the Jeep and offered the location of his pickup truck. Greene told him to leave his vehicle unlocked when he went to the Jeep and they would find it and wait there. Danny explained that his plan was to watch Cutter's vehicle via the security monitor at the store where he had built a rapport with the owner. In fact when Danny had called the owner the man had said he would be leaving about when the detective would arrive. So he had told Danny that he would let him in and he could take as long as he needed on the condition that he locked up when he left.

Therefore, the plan had become that Greene would wait in the truck which Danny would leave a spare set of keys in while the detective staked out the Jeep from inside the store. If Cutter showed they would let him drive away then track him. If for some reason Cutter approached the vehicle but got spooked Danny would be close enough near by to intercept him.

St. Clair stole a final sweeping glance up and down the street and found it quiet and empty.

Moving as quickly as possible he got down on the pavement and then scouted his body beneath the vehicle. It was not his first go around doing this so within a handful of seconds he had the tracking device attached to the undercarriage of the vehicle. He had tucked it off to the side in back of the muffler so it was not easily visible.

Danny scouted back out and again looked about the surrounding area. There was still no one around. A moment later he was back on his feet and walking on the sidewalk again. A few seconds after he had arrived at the store and as promised found its owner about ready to exit the shop. They exchanged a few brief words in passing at the doorway and Danny slipped inside to wait and see if Jack Cutter would make an appearance.

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Settling into the driver's seat of the sedan Gibbs looked out through the windshield at the coffee shop. Just as he did so the lights in Java Jim's went dark. He had been their last customer of the night. A moment later the waitress, a young woman whose name tag offered her name as Melanie, exited out onto the sidewalk.

Gibbs decided that he would wait while she locked up and made her way to her car or down along the sidewalk if she was on foot. There was very little passing traffic on the street and very few people around. But better to take a few minutes and make sure Melanie made it safely on her way before he headed off himself.

He had dropped McGee off back at the hotel. And David and Moore had been let out around the corner from where they had spotted Fornell. They would probably still be on his tail at this point. Hopefully, they had listened to instructions and were being discreet in their pursuit. He wanted to find out what the FBI agent was up to because the man was hiding something – something big.

Gibbs picked up the tall coffee cup from the holder between the seats and took a slow sip. As he casually kept an eye on the young woman who was now locking the door to the shop he mentally ran through what they had gathered so far.

For some reason his mind went straight to going over what they had on Jack Cutter. He noted how McGee had found little to nothing for background on the guy. Although they now thought Jack might be a nickname so he would have to search all over again. Then there was how the pub owner had stated that the driver's license photo they had come up with was not the man he knew as Cutter. He seemed pretty sure of it too. And McGee had said that the person he encountered had not been heavy set like the license suggested. He went over in his mind the conversations which they had had with Seavey at Traveler's.

As Gibbs was going down through the questions that they had asked and how Bruce Seavey had answered several answers now, upon review, grabbed his attention. First the pub owner had been reluctant to talk initially. But there was something else Seavey had said that stuck with him word for word. _He really is an okay guy. All of this ratting him out doesn't feel right._ Then later Seavey had said something else when they had asked him about the cameras. When he had responded he had stated that he had checked them with the last round of questioning _last night_. Catching it now Gibbs recalled that he and McGee had gone there in the afternoon not at night time. By the time night rolled around they were at the hospital then back at the hotel.

"Dammit! We weren't the only ones asking questions!" Gibbs scolded himself in realization. He dropped the coffee cup back in its holder. The coffee shop worker had already driven off so he dug in his pocket for the keys and started the engine. Pulling out of the parallel parking spot he did a sharp U-turn then speed off in the direction of Traveler's. Bruce Seavey had a few more questions to answer.

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By night Traveler's Pub was clearly a popular hangout. Gibbs found himself having to weave through clusters of customers and dodge trays full of glasses and plates being carried by the wait staff. The two times he had been here it was prior to opening for business and with the lights dimmed, music playing, and it filled to the brim with people it almost looked like a different place.

Finally making it up to the counter he signaled with his hand to catch the attention of the bartender, a tall wiry man in his early thirties. The man finished pouring a drink from a shaker into a glass then handed it off to a customer further down the bar. But the bartender had spotted him because a moment later he was standing across the counter from Gibbs.

"What can I get for you? No. Let me guess. Draft. No. That's not right. Too weak. Tequila?"

"Yes. And no."

"Are you sure you know what you want?" the bartender asked with a confused look catching his features.

"Yes, draft is too weak. No, I don't want tequila. Got this," Gibbs responded and held up his Java Jim's coffee cup.

"Alright then! Surprise me. What can I get for you?"

"Your boss."

"Hey. I didn't mean anything by it. I just like to try guess what new customers drink."

"Don't want to talk to him about you."

"In that case who should I tell him is asking?" the younger man inquired.

"Tell him it's the guy who came asking some questions last night."

"Hang out a minute. I'll see if he's around."

Gibbs leaned against one of the tall stools in front of the counter and gazed around the pub. A few minutes later Seavey came out through the door that connected the back room to the main area of the bar. Judging by the look on the pub owner's face it hadn't been the NCIS agent he had expected. Gibbs had deliberately mislead the man by saying he was the guy asking questions _last night_. Gibbs' suspicions were on target. He and McGee had not been the only ones asking around about Jack Cutter. Someone had come by after them.

"I thought I told you I wanted to see a warrant," Seavey said.

"Ya did. And I have one just not on me. This will only drag on if I have to go get the papers. But I already have the answer to one question."

"Oh yeah. What's that?"

"After I left here yesterday. Someone else came in asking after Jack Cutter. Who was it?" Gibbs asked calmly.

"I am not telling you anything else. You may have chased off my bouncer but there's always the local cops. Should I be dialing them or are you gonna leave?" the pub owner questioned and picked the receiver up off the phone mounted on the wall behind the bar.

"Don't say I didn't give you the chance to play nice!" Gibbs offered and headed off towards the doorway. He had wanted to grab the man by the collar and shake the information out of him. But he had reigned in his irritation. He would go and get the paperwork. He suspected Seavey would talk just at the sight of it and not bother reading what it even covered.

Gibbs exited out onto the sidewalk and started down the street in the direction of his car which he had parked a short walk away. He had only made it a few feet when a voice called out behind him.

"Hey!" a female voice called after him. He turned to find a young woman not more than twenty five walking towards him on the sidewalk. He had seen her inside. In the pub the woman had been serving drinks and taking orders so she must be another one of Seavey's employees. He opted for the gentle approach since she initiated the conversation. He didn't want to scare her off if she knew something useful and was willing to offer it up.

"Something I can help you with?" he asked casually.

"I kinda overheard you in there talking to my boss. Well, bit and pieces anyway."

"Okay," he replied reassuring her that he didn't care that she had heard in case she was worried she shouldn't have been listening.

"Did I hear right? You looking to find out who was asking about Jack?"

"Yes. That was what I asked him. Did you happen to know something about it?"

"Before I answer that. Why you looking for Jack?"

"I just have a few questions for him? Maybe protect him if he needs it."

"Good. Jack always did right by me and the other waitresses. Watched out for us. Guys sometimes get handsy when they are smashed. And he would walk us to our cars if we didn't want to walk alone. If we were having a bad night he would joke around and make us smile. It won't be the same around here without him."

"Sounds decent," he stated hoping that saying something positive about Jack would encourage her to keep talking.

"The guy that was here he's a local cop. Name's Danny St. Clair."

"How do you know him?"

"The jackass busted my little sister. She didn't even know that apartment was a place where people go to buy drugs. Her loser boyfriend brought her there and while she's in the bathroom he stashes stuff in her purse. Then the cops show up. That detective wouldn't even listen to her side."

"Sorry to hear that. You're sure it was him?"

"Positive."

"Thank you for the help."

"You'll look after Jack if you find him?"

"I'll do what I can."

"Okay," she hesitantly replied. Her eyes gave away that maybe she regretted telling him.

"You did the right thing. I don't think this guy St. Clair is looking to make friends with Cutter."

"Oh so I'm not just paranoid. He seemed like he was up to something not so good."

"You have good instincts. Listen to them. They won't let you down."

"I gotta get back inside."

"Okay. Go on!" Gibbs said and nodded his head back towards the pub. She walked away and he headed in the direction of the rented sedan.

Coming from the coffee shop he had headed towards the general direction he knew the pub to be in. Things had started to look familiar and he recognized a name on a street sign. Pine Street had been the street where he and McGee had parked when they had first visited Traveler's Pub. Only this time there were plenty of empty spaces and he had barely turned onto the street when he came upon one. Gibbs had decided since he knew the way on foot and could use the fresh air to clear his head he might as well park there and walk the rest of the way. But now his pace would be less leisurely. The fact that it was a local cop that had come asking questions about Jack raised a huge red flag. The Wheel had a presence in state and local law enforcement and Gibbs was willing to bet that St. Clair hadn't been there on official police business. He had been there on Wheel business.

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Wiping a hand over the glass Tony cleared away a bit of the dusty film covering the window pane in front of him. Now able to see through it better he picked up the pair of mini binoculars and lifted them back to his eyes. From the second story window inside Sacred Heart Church he could see all the way up the street to the intersection. The great little hole in the wall movie theater he had described to Fornell was well within his line of sight.

The church had a good vantage point for this whole section of the city actually. The building was not currently in use. He had read in the newspaper that there was an ongoing battle of whether to put money into repairing it or to simply demolish it. In the meantime while the opposing sides duked it out the place was silent and empty.

He had watched for a while already but the FBI agent hadn't appeared yet. Tony prayed that everything was going as planned. He pushed away the thoughts that something may have happened and tried to convince himself Fornell had just been delayed somehow. But it was hard because he was anxious and his gut was getting a little rambunctious for some reason.

Finding himself fidgeting Tony laid the binoculars on the window sill and unzipped the hiking pack that lay on the floor next to his feet. He grabbed one of the granola bars from inside and tore the package open. He picked up the binoculars again. He held them with one hand and held the granola bar which he began eating in the other. Then watched out through the window again for some time.

He had just finished off the last bite of the snack and stuffed the wrapper in his pocket when he spotted Fornell crossing the intersection up the street a ways. There was something in the way the FBI agent walked or in his posture that sent up a red flag to Tony but he wasn't sure what it meant yet.

He tracked Fornell's movements along the sidewalk. A long moment later he reached the movie theater. Given the delay in his arrival and the red flag that had gone up Tony was surprised when the other man stopped. Tony could see him step into the covered entryway and lift the lid on the metal box where the flyers were kept. He had expected that the FBI agent would pass it by if his gut was anything to base guesses off of. His gut was telling him there was a problem and it was a no go. But as he kept watching Fornell took one of the flyers from the box and then continued down the sidewalk and finally turned the corner out of sight.

"Well that was the signal. The Jeep it is I guess!" Tony commented. He stored away the binoculars in his jacket pocket and zipped up the pack. Taking a hold of the straps he hoisted the large hiking pack with the sleeping bag secured to the top of it up onto his back. After clipping together the anchoring strap that went around his waist he grabbed the duffel bag from the wooden chair beside the window. For some reason before he turned and headed for the door he glanced out the window to look back outside. He noticed two figures making their way briskly down along the sidewalk where Fornell had traveled only moments before. He retrieved the binoculars from his pocket and took a closer look at the pair who were now moving along at a near jog.

"Crap!" he swore quietly as he got a good look at the female half of the duo. It was Ziva. He didn't recognize the brunette man with her but they were together and Tony could tell he was wearing a weapon under his jacket. He was likely an agent too.

Both of them were frantically looking around the street and buildings. Tony deduced that they were searching for Fornell. It made sense now why there had been something off about the FBI agent when he first appeared. The other two agents had been following him. It explained the delay. Fornell probably had to lead them on a tour of the city in an attempt to shake them. And apparently he had at least done so momentarily based off the gap between Fornell's appearance then theirs. Not to mention that their hurried visual searching meant they had lost line of sight on the FBI agent.

Tony waited and watched as Ziva and the other agent who he now noticed bore a slight resemblance to Brent Langer made their way down the sidewalk to the next side street. After a quick survey down in the direction where Fornell had turned they passed by and continued up to the next intersection. On the corner they split up. Ziva went left. An Langer's long lost cousin went right. A second later they both were out of sight.

Tony dropped the binoculars on the window sill and blew out a breath. He would have to wait a few more minutes before heading out in case they doubled back in their search for the FBI agent. Reluctantly, he would give it a minute or two and then make his way as quickly as possible to the Jeep.

Tony closed his eyes and took a few calming breaths. His chest was tight and his gut was churning. And he was pretty sure the walls were closing in on him.

"Buck up DiNozzo," he commanded himself. Just a few minutes then a little trek to Pine Street and you're on the way. He just had to hang on until the city was behind him and then he could breath again he promised himself.

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A small green sign with white lettering set atop a post just up ahead alerted Gibbs he had reached the street the sedan was parked on. The corner of Pine Street and Cross Court. The vehicle was parked right at the beginning of the street so he would be there shortly. He took a sip of his coffee which apparently had stopped being hot a while ago.

With his free hand he pulled his phone out from his jacket pocket and selected McGee from the contact list. He lifted it to his ear and listened to it ring. The phone chirped at him as it had been doing all day long but he had kept forgetting to charge it. He had looked for the car charger back in the car outside the coffee shop but it must have been taken into the hotel with everything else by accident.

"Hey Boss!" his senior field agent answered.

"You at the computer?"

"I am. What do you need?"

"Look up a local cop named Danny St. Clair," Gibbs instructed just as his phone began beeping at him more incessantly.

"Okay. Looking now. What's that beeping sound?"

"Oh it's the phone. Couldn't find the charger for the thing."

"All that beeping is your phone? If it's beeping like that it's dying fast."

"Yep. That's the impression I got too. Anything?"

"Yep. Daniel Christopher St. Clair. He's a detective with the Portland Police Department. Been with them for over a decade."

"Is there a picture of him?"

"Sure I can send it to your phone."

"Better do it fast," Gibbs suggested as his phone chirped away at him.

"Okay. You should have it! Where are ya at, Boss? You went out for coffee quite a while ago," Tim responded as Gibbs' phone beeped another type of tone alerting him he had received a message.

"Corner Of Pine Street and Cross Court," Gibbs replied dryly.

"Uh. I didn't mean literally. I meant... uh... well...I thought maybe you found something when you went off by yourself like you do for a long time."

"Know what you meant. And I did find something. I'll explain when I get back. I should be there in a few minutes."

"Alright Boss. I'll talk to you in a few."

"Yep!" the team leader offered in parting and disconnected the call.

Gibbs took the phone away from his ear and opened the picture McGee had sent him. St. Clair had light brown hair and blue eyes. Solidly built. Short hair but not to closely buzzed. He looked to be in his early to mid forties. After studying the picture for a moment he put the phone back in his pocket and continued to walk towards the car.

He turned the corner onto Pine Street and immediately spotted the sedan. As he arrived beside the vehicle he remembered that earlier at the coffee shop he had not checked the trunk for the phone charger. So he set the Java Jim's cup on the roof and pulled out his keys.

Opening the trunk he shifted through the items there but didn't come up with what he was looking for amongst the things inside. While still leaned into the trunk his attention was grabbed away from the task at hand by first the sound of an engine starting up then the sharp squeak of car brakes. Someone needed to get their brake pads changed out.

He looked back over his shoulder farther down the street. There was a dark colored SUV type vehicle that had pulled out of a parking spot and was now making a tight U-turn in the street. Once completed the vehicle headed up the street towards where Gibbs was parked. He watched it as it approached and noted that the only occupant was the driver but the person was silhouetted since most of the streetlamps were behind it.

Some of the streetlights near where Gibbs was parked must have been broken or blown out because that section of the street was cloaked in shadows in places. As the vehicle passed him by in the lane on the opposite side of the street from where he stood Gibbs could see that it was a dark colored Jeep Grand Cherokee. His gaze instantly went to the license plate. It was a regular Maine plate and it had an R in it.

"Romeo. Tango. Four. Two. Three," he said aloud to himself to imprint it into his memory. Since he didn't believe in coincidences and they weren't far from Traveler's the odds were strong that that had been Jack Cutter.

He slammed the trunk closed and moved around the car. Opening the driver's side door and grabbing his coffee from the roof he quickly slipped inside. Jamming the key into the ignition and bringing the car to life he realized he should give the plate to McGee to check and confirm its owner.

He got out his phone and hit the button to bring it to life but the screen stayed dark. He realized the phone hadn't chirped at him in the last few minutes which meant it had finally died. In frustration he tossed it onto the passenger seat. He would follow and see if he could at the least get a look at Cutter if it was him.

The rumble of a truck engine broke his thoughts and he looked up to see a green Chevy Silverado coming up the street. It stopped a few car lengths before the spot where he was parked but on the opposite side of the road. It idled for a moment. Gibbs twisted around to get a better look at what they were up to. He was grateful that the busted streetlights likely masked his presence.

That was when he saw a man exiting a store across the way. The tall figure made his way at a jog towards the waiting pickup truck. The driver of the truck climbed out and went around the front bumper to climb back in on the passenger side. There also appeared to be another person in the back seat of the extended cab.

The man who had exited the store arrived at the curb and stepped down off the sidewalk in front of the Silverado. And as he did so he also stepped into the glow of the streetlamp overhead and Gibbs got a perfectly clear view of his face.

It was Daniel St. Clair.

The pieces click together in his mind. The Jeep that had passed him by was Cutter and these guys in the truck which included St. Clair had been staking it out. Now they were going to follow after Cutter. Gibbs knew in his gut nothing good would come of it.

He needed to tail them both. But he had to relay information to his team somehow and he had to do it quickly since St. Clair had now climbed into the driver's seat of the Chevy and the truck was moving again. It sped by the sedan and turned onto Cross Court in the same direction the Jeep had gone in. Gibbs managed to catch the plate before it made the corner.

Gibbs grabbed the pen from inside his coat pocket and picked up his coffee. As fast as he could he scribbled out a message on the outside of the cup.

_St. Clair = The Wheel_

_Jeep RT423_

_Chevy Silverado 8256P_

_St. Clair + 2_

_Right on Cross Court. _

_Chasing Jack_

Jumping out of the car he glanced around. Spotting that the storefront near his car had a window with a bit of a sill which jutted outward he set the half full Java Jim's cup down on the ledge in front of the window. In the next heartbeat he was back in the driver's seat and tearing out of the parking spot. He took the same right onto Cross Court the Jeep and Silverado had and laid his foot heavily down on the gas pedal in hopes he wasn't too late to catch up.

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"What exactly are you doing?" Ziva asked as she looked up from cleaning her firearm.

"What?" McGee replied.

"I have only been here for a few minutes and you have picked up that phone a dozen times already," she explained.

"It's nothing."

"No, clearly it is something."

"It's just I talked to Gibbs before you arrived. He found something and said he was coming right back here and he would explain. Sounded important. I can't get him on the phone. It was dying when I was talking to him so it must have finally lost all its charge. On the phone he told me his location and I looked it up on the map and by car it's ten minutes tops. With Gibbs driving maybe five. He is way past due. Something's not right."

"Getting in tune with your gut are you, McGee?"

"More like the hairs on the back of my neck."

"Perhaps he needed a coffee refill. At that coffee shop he found. What was it called? Java Jane's?"

"Java Jim's. When he dropped me back at the hotel that was where he was headed. That was a long time ago."

"Maybe he went back for a second refill."

"Couldn't have."

"How do you know for certain?" Ziva asked curiously.

"Because I looked up Java Jim's online. And they closed over an hour ago."

"Relax McGee. I am sure he is fine. Or on second thought. Maybe he ran into Fornell again and they killed each other this time. I know I'd like to kill him. He led me and Moore through what felt like a march from one end of the city to the other."

"No. If he's not here by the time Moore is back from getting us the second rental car were going over to check at the location he gave me."

"Okay. But I am confident there is nothing to worry about!" Ziva reassured and returned to her work. McGee glanced at his watch and ran a hand over his face. Maybe he didn't have Gibbs' gut but this was not sitting right at all.

As soon as Moore arrived with the second rental they would go straight to the corner of Pine Street and Cross Court. Tim only prayed there would be some sign of the Boss there to find. Preferably the boss himself but he would take what he could get at this point.

"Where are you Boss?" he whispered to himself and looked down at the silent phone in his hands.

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The city of Portland lay behind him now.

Tony watched out through the windshield as the Jeep's headlights illuminated the country road ahead. Route 302 would take him northwest through the Lakes Region and over the state border into New Hampshire. He might get rid of the car there somewhere or at the farthest continue a little further with it into Vermont or Western Massachusetts.

The headlight beams skimmed over the worn gray pavement and the yellow lines that ran down the center of it. They shone against the trees lining the roadside and bounced off the metal of the guard rails that were stationed here and there.

The orange glow of streetlights and the steady flow of traffic from downtown were gone. Spare the light thrown by the vehicle's headlights night had wrapped around him. And as the darkness settled in loneliness returned along with it. Until that moment Tony had not truly realized how deeply the close encounter with the past and his former self had affected him.

He thought back to the meeting with Fornell. Even just the brief connection with one person who had known him as Tony DiNozzo had awakened some exiled piece of him. And it haunted his heart. He was not sure he would be able to ever lay it to rest again.

Tony anxiously drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

Being Tony DiNozzo after so many years of being someone else and doing everything to hide his true identity had been strange and disconnected almost like an out of body experience. Yet at the same time having the FBI agent call him DiNozzo had been a comforting relief.

The sharp brightness of a pair of headlights reflected in the rearview mirror snatched his attention from his thoughts. The other car had seemingly come out of nowhere and was following fairly close behind. Unnecessarily close given they were the only vehicles in sight on the road. But it showed no signs of letting up.

"Okay, buddy either slow up off my bumper or pass me already."

But the vehicle did neither. Just stayed there tight on his bumper. Tony pressed down slightly on the gas pedal and the Jeep picked up its speed. He looked in the mirror again and found the other car had copied his acceleration. So he tested it and let up on the gas a little. Again the vehicle on his back bumper did as he did and maintained similar speed.

Were these guys following him?

"Now you're just being paranoid Jack," he scolded himself. It took a second for realization to click in that he had called himself Jack not Tony. When it did every fiber of his body tensed. He couldn't believe he had just done that. He had said it so naturally that it was unnerving at the least.

He increased his speed back up around the speed limit. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over by some county sheriff's deputy. But he couldn't help checking his mirror and testing to see if they matched his speed changes ever once in a while.

They matched every one and now he knew it wasn't the result of his paranoid mind. The vehicle behind him was purposely sticking with him and didn't care that he knew it. Before he even had the chance to think on how to shake them the other vehicle finally left his bumper. It pulled slightly to the left and moved forward as if it was going to make an attempt to pass. But instead of speeding up to pass they maintained their speed.

Tony then recognized what they were setting up to do. He had done it before himself while on the police force. The driver of the other vehicle was positioning it to execute a PIT maneuver. The other driver had already lined up the side of his vehicle's front end, the section before the front wheels, so it was parallel to the back end of the Jeep behind its rear wheels. Contact in the form of a solid bump between the two vehicles in this manner with the other driver then steering to veer abruptly towards the Jeep would cause Tony to spin out.

"We'll see about that!" Tony stated and pressed down on the gas pedal in hopes a sudden burst of speed would be enough to break free of the correct positioning for the maneuver. His anticipation of what they had been setting up to try must have taken the other driver by surprise. The sudden acceleration dropped the other vehicle away from the rear side panel and back past the bumper. He laid his foot down more heavily on the gas. The other vehicle reacted in kind, increasing its speed even more and pulling fully into the other lane so it was now traveling head on into any oncoming traffic.

As far as Tony could tell through the intense brightness of its headlights the other vehicle looked to be a pickup truck. That meant it was a solid match for the Jeep Grand Cherokee if not more than one. If it had been a sedan Tony might have had the advantage with the possible exception of the Jeep having a higher center of gravity which could make it tip more easily.

Despite the fact that he now had the gas pedal practically laid to the floor Tony could see in the side mirror that the truck was having no hard time at catching up. Forced to look back at the road in front of him after a quick check in the side mirror he took a sharp inhale of breath. A bright yellow sign along the side of the road indicated that there was a sharp curve coming up.

His mind raced. His heart rate matched its pace.

The pickup truck was now nearly side by side with the Jeep. Its front passenger side door was right across from the back door on the driver's side of his own vehicle. With the curve coming the only move he could think of was to slam on the brakes and hope the truck flew past him and while the driver reacted by probably slowing and turning around he would have the chance to make a rapid U-turn and head in the opposite direction. This might gain him a slight lead on the other vehicle.

The chance to set that plan in motion dissolved in the next instant though.

Instead the sound of metal scraping against metal and the harsh jolt of the truck slamming into the Jeep's side arrived. Tony gripped onto the steering wheel so hard his hands ached as he struggled to pull it to the left. The pickup's passenger side was up pressed against the driver's side of his vehicle and it was forcing him over towards the side of the road.

The truck had pushed him far enough over that the pickup was now straddling the yellow line as they reached the curve. With his passenger side tires at the very edge of the pavement Tony yanked the steering wheel to the left as hard as he could in attempt to regain more of the road under his tires. But the weight of the slightly larger truck had the advantage and the other driver steered further to the right.

It was then that Tony knew he wasn't going to make the curve.

The pickup had forced him so far over there was no room left on the edge of the road. There was simply not enough space for his vehicle to pass between the truck and the trees that lined the inside edge of the curve. The only thing left to do was to try to control the vehicle as much as he could as it left the roadway.

Another solid jolt towards the right from the pickup and the Jeep's passenger side wheels left the pavement and connected with the loose rocks or debris along side the road. The steering wheel tugged against his grasp, fighting his direction, and he scrambled to control the path of the vehicle. The pickup kept shoving the him over further and finally he was all the way off the road.

The truck veered off so it would remain on the pavement. Despite his foot now already being lifted off the gas pedal and coming down on the brake it was too late. The front end and tires were already over the edge of the embankment and momentum sent the Jeep down the steep uneven incline.

The headlights illuminated the cluster of trees straight ahead for what seemed only a split second before the impact arrived. Tony's body was jolted back then forward and back again in the driver's seat as the air bag deployed. With one last bounce and lurch the Jeep settled with the passenger side elevated slightly higher than the driver's side on the uneven terrain. As that last movement had come Tony had been thrown harshly sideways into the driver's side door and window.

And then the night simply went silent and still.

_To Be Continued..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: This chapter contains violence**

**Chasing Jack**

**Chapter Nine**

The headlights of the Jeep had gone out. As Tony opened his eyes he was met with the dark night. He was fairly confident he hadn't lost consciousness but his head had definitely connected with something hard. Reaching a hand up to his forehead his fingertips came across a tender spot that was already developing into a sizable lump. The rapidly increasing throbbing inside his head was also evidence to a solid knock on the head.

Dropping his hand down away from his head he moved it to the seatbelt buckle. He found himself fumbling to get it undone. But finally it released and he pushed it away off to the side.

Next order of business was getting himself out of the vehicle. The terrain at the bottom of the embankment was uneven and the Jeep has settled with the driver's side tilted towards the ground and the passenger side raised slightly above it. Tony shifted in the seat so he could try the driver's side door. The movement sent a bolt of pain through his left leg. He sucked in a breath and then blew it out as the pain subsided a bit. He tested the leg again and found it was dulled down a little. Tony decided it wasn't broken but certainly banged up. He had probably smashed it into the dashboard or the door during the impact with the tree.

He tried the driver's side door but found it wouldn't budge. It was either damaged or leaned up against something preventing it from opening. Odds were that the Jeep wouldn't turn on so rolling down the window might be out. Unless, of course, he found something in the car to use to break the already cracked glass so he could climb through it.

Repositioning himself in the opposite direction he reached over and tested the passenger side door. Finding it in working order he managed to clamor over the center console and on to the passenger seat. He opened the door and hoisted himself up so he standing with his upper body outside the vehicle.

His gaze scanned over his surroundings using what little light there was available. His eyes were immediately drawn to the cluster of trees near the curve. Here and there in the gaps between trees he spotted the bright beams of headlights on the road beyond. The vehicle was traveling in his direction on the road and would make it around the curve in a matter of seconds.

Realizing it was likely the pickup truck returning he knew he had to get out of there quickly.

It was a bit of a struggle with the bad leg and an arm that was beginning to ache but he managed to get all the way out of the Jeep and down to the ground. His only real option for cover was the woods so he headed off towards the thicker treeline. But the further along Tony moved the more and more he realized his left leg was going to hinder him especially since the ground was not level and littered with rocks.

Glancing over his shoulder back towards the curve he could see the headlights were closer now. He picked up the pace. But by the time he twisted back around it was too late to avoid tripping over the large rock straight in front of him. He tried to recover mid fall and managed it somewhat. He landed on his knees in the grass. It was the spike of pain through his left knee that made him topple over the rest of the way to the ground.

"_Holy crap!_" he ground out under his breath and clamped his hands onto the injured leg. This was not good.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when it got worse.

The rumble of a truck engine and then the sharp screech of brakes sliced through the night. He looked up at the road to find the pickup had parked up above the embankment where the Jeep was located. Forced to push the pain aside Tony was off the ground in an instant and running into the woods the next. The 9mm which had been holstered on his hip was now grasped in his hand.

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St. Clair had barely brought the Chevy Silverado to a jolting halt when three of the doors on its extended cab flew open. Danny St. Clair, Billy Greene, and its third occupant Jay Sutton all jumped out. Danny had angled the truck so the headlight beams shone down the hillside towards the Jeep below. The illumination did not make it the entire way though. Only a portion of the vehicle's bumper was visible. The rest was cloaked in the shadows.

"As discussed in the truck if the crash didn't kill him I would prefer Cutter taken alive," Greene instructed. He was still holding the true identity of their target under wraps. The first objective was to obtain him. The rest could wait.

"Anything else we should know about this guy?" Sutton asked.

"He'll be armed and he's a good shot. That's all you need to know. Get the rifles in case he survived the crash and is on foot," Greene responded. This prompted Sutton, the youngest of the trio, to move to the bed of the truck and retrieve three tactical type rifles and several other items from a large duffle bag. He handed a rifle, a box of ammo, and a flashlight to each of the other men and kept a set for himself. All of them were already armed with handguns.

"Sutton, you're with me. Danny stay with the truck.. We don't need anyone passing by on the road to stop thinking they are being helpful," Billy instructed.

"I can solve that easy enough," St. Clair replied.

"How's that?"

"I have a roll of police line tape in the back of the truck. I'll string some up along the side of the road. If a car happens along they won't stop. Trust me."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you Danny. You're prepared."

"I'm hardly a boy scout," the detective refuted.

"Just another reason you're useful. When you're done come join us," Billy stated as he headed down the embankment.

"Alright. Got it. Oh hey!" Danny tossed out. He had moved to the bed of the pickup to get the roll of tape. In his search for it he had come across another helpful item. Greene pivoted around on his heel to face back up towards the detective. Danny tossed him an item across the short distance.

"These might be useful!" St. Clair called out.

"Night vision binoculars. Like I said very prepared," Greene commented before continuing down the steep incline.

Danny turned back to the truck and within a few seconds had found the police line tape. Grabbing it he moved to the front of the Silverado. He laid the rifle on the hood then proceeded to tie one end of the tape around the vehicle's passenger side mirror. It took a little looking but after a moment of searching he located something to tie off the other end around. The old metal post no longer had a sign attached to it but it was still securely anchored in the ground near the edge of the pavement. When he had finished the tape stretched for a fair bit along the side of the road. No one would disturb them.

He jogged back to the pickup and tossed the roll of tape in the bed. After snagging the rifle from the vehicle's hood he headed off down towards the Jeep. It took a few moments to traverse the hillside. The headlight beams threw some light but the terrain was uneven and rocky.

When he arrived at the Jeep Greene and Sutton had already cleared it. Jack Cutter had survived and fled. Based off the looks of the vehicle with its crumbled front end and a windshield that was badly cracked into a spider web design there was a fair chance Cutter had not gotten out completely unscathed. The passenger side door was open and the vehicle was tilted towards the driver's side. This meant Cutter would have to have been still mobile enough to climb out of the Jeep on the passenger side and take off.

"Let's go hunting boys!" Greene announced as he headed off towards the woods on the passenger side of the Jeep. Sutton immediately took up after him.

St. Clair took one more hard look at the damaged vehicle in front of him. Just for a split second he wondered what the hell he was doing out here - running people off the road and then setting off to hunt them down in the woods. He wanted some real answers from Greene but he knew he wouldn't get any until they finished this. So he looked down at the rifle in his hand. It was equipped with a night vision scope and already loaded. Greene seemed to have tunnel vision where this Jack Cutter guy was concerned.

Danny suspected that delaying their capture of him by asking a lot of questions or second guessing things would not sit well. That only left one thing to do and that was find Cutter. He turned away from the Jeep and made his way into the darkness of the forest.

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Silently cursing, Gibbs slammed a fist down on the steering wheel in frustration. He was beginning to think the other vehicles had managed to lose him. The rented sedan had shown its age with its lack of power. Gibbs had stuck with the Silverado for some time but a ways back the Chevy had kicked up its speed and the rental had fallen behind. Gibbs had pushed it to its limits but maybe it just hadn't been enough.

Strangely, there was something stronger bothering him than just the frustration that they had managed to lose him. His thoughts had turned to Cutter. Gibbs doubted that the Jeep Grand Cherokee would be much of a match power wise for the pickup. Besides St. Clair there had been two others in the truck and if they caught up to Cutter it would be three against one with Cutter on the losing side.

It wasn't even so much that Gibbs wanted Cutter because he had information on The Wheel. There was something else beyond that which he couldn't quite put his finger on.

After Cutter had injured McGee Gibbs had only seen red for the man. But as they had gone along and learned more Jack somehow had begun to intrigue him.

The man had an apartment filled with weapons – all of which were unregistered. Yet at the same time he was looking out for the waitresses at Traveler's in a very decent way. Gibbs wasn't really sure anymore if he wanted to shoot the guy dead or find out more about him over a couple mason jars of bourbon in his basement. Of course, he would never admit that to anyone. He could barely admit it to himself. But what he had said to the waitress back at the pub had been the truth. He would protect Jack if he truly needed it. It was also true that he would put a bullet in him if he earned it.

As that thought settled in his mind Gibbs spotted the glow of headlights up ahead. He let up on the gas pedal slightly as he got closer. The bright yellow police tape that was stretched along the side of road a few feet off the right hand lane immediately caught his attention. The other thing he quickly spotted was the familiar looking green Chevy Silverado. It was parked on the side of the road. The end of the yellow tape was tied to its passenger side mirror. That made sense since St. Clair was a cop. He probably had a roll tucked away in his truck.

So far there was no one in sight so Gibbs slowed his vehicle even more. As he rolled by the pickup his gaze followed the direction of its headlights. And there at the bottom of the embankment he could see there was a second vehicle. Based off what Gibbs could make out it looked to be Jack Cutter's Jeep. Gibbs had no doubt what had happened. The Silverado had caught up to him and run him off the road.

Gibbs swallowed down hard against his temper. He needed to stay calm and level headed. But he well knew there was a fair chance that he was too late and Jack Cutter was already dead.

He continued to drive slowly by the scene. Not wanting to attract any attention to himself he continued along the road and around the tight bend of the curve. Once on the other side of it he found a place just off the road where he could hide the vehicle amongst some brush and trees.

Exiting the sedan he decided he wasn't particularly keen on this situation. All he had with him was the 9mm handgun on his hip, a smaller caliber weapon in an ankle holster, and the knife in his belt. The night was dark and he was confident St. Clair and the others were more prepared than he was presently.

But what other options did he have available. His phone was out of commission and he couldn't simply drive away. He would just have to utilize his one big advantage. As far as he could tell the fact he had been tailing the Jeep and the Silverado had gone unnoticed. And he was fairly confident no one had been around to see him drive passed. If he could manage to keep his presence undetected it could play out in his favor.

After pulling some extra ammo and a small flashlight out of the glove box and tucking them away in a pocket he locked the vehicle. He headed towards the woods with the intent to cut diagonally across to the other side of the curve back to the area where the Jeep was at the bottom of the hill. This approach would hopefully keep his presence hidden.

Once he arrived inside the treeline he stopped. While waiting for his eyes to adjust further to the darkness he listened for anything that would provide further information about the situation. Unfortunately, the night air offered nothing of use. His vision now more adapted to the dimness he moved forward making his way deeper amongst the trees.

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The spot where the Jeep had been parked was empty. Fornell looked up and down along Pine Street. A few other vehicles took up spaces here and there. However, there was no sign of the tow truck or the street sweeper which the signs had promised. More than likely they just hadn't reached this particular street yet. The important thing was that the Jeep was gone which meant Tony had gotten to it and fled the city.

Despite how grateful he was for that he wished he could have been of more use to the younger man. But with Gibbs and The Wheel, local cop included, close on his tail the former NCIS agent had truly been between a rock and a hard place. And Tobias' exit strategies needed serious modifying to stand a chance against that combination.

He shook his head. _DiNozzo was clear. _That's what mattered. He was glad he had returned to check on it. When he had come around the corner onto Pine Street from the side street where he had parked and found the vehicle gone relief had washed over him. The vacant spot meant more than anyone else would ever know.

With that thought the FBI agent walked up along the sidewalk to the corner where he would turn down a side street. Then it would be only another half block until he would climb back in that miserable little Honda. Fornell was turning the corner when something snagged his attention further up on Pine. He stopped walking and watched for a moment.

A Toyota with rental plates had turned onto Pine and had pulled into a parallel spot at the top of the street. Both of the front doors opened as well as a rear one. As soon as the car's occupants exited the vehicle Tobias ducked around the corner onto the side street. He crossed over to the opposite sidewalk and made his way along the wall of the office building there until he came to the corner. He peeked around the edge of the building and watched as Tim McGee, Ziva David, and Ro Moore made their way up onto the sidewalk. They were all scanning their surroundings in search of something. But it didn't appear to be him though. He must have escaped their notice.

He noted that McGee had been driving which meant that it was as it appeared. Gibbs was not with them. He had probably sent the team to check on a lead. Or very possibly Gibbs was busy hunting him down.

Then he realized what they must be looking for on the street. And that was Jack Cutter's Jeep. Somehow they had come to find out what type of car he had and where it had been parked. Little did they know they would not find it.

Fornell watched them for another moment then slipped away down the side street to his car. He would stay in the city overnight then go pay Leroy Jethro Gibbs a visit the next day.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

"He does not appear to be here, McGee," Ziva stated. The trio had split up and searched the street for several minutes. They had all met back up a short distance from their rental car.

"Corner of Pine Street and Cross Court is the location he gave me and it's the last trace of the GPS from his cell to a tower. He said he found something. He didn't return to the hotel and hasn't contacted us. He said he would be back in a few minutes," McGee replied. His voice was strained. Moore backed him up.

"It has been a long time since the call Ziva. Way longer than it should have been for him to either return or call. McGee might have a point," Ro stated.

"Alright. Alright fine. I will concede it has been some time since he last contacted us. But his cell was not charged. He could not contact us. Perhaps he caught a lead that needed to be acted upon immediately and simply decided to check it out before going back to the hotel," she said. A mixture of concern and frustration filled her tone.

"Maybe McGee can do that thing he does," Moore suggested.

"Which thing would that be? He is capable of many different things," Ziva responded.

"With the traffic cams. Maybe find Gibbs on the cameras and see where he went. At least a direction."

"Maybe a BOLO on the car too," Tim added offhandedly.

"Should we call that FBI agent? What's his name? Ford? Fondell?" Moore questioned.

"Fornell," McGee answered him.

"Right Fornell. Maybe he's seen Gibbs?"

"That explains it. Gibbs ran into Fornell again and is now on the run for his murder," Ziva suggested trying to lighten the mood a little. But mostly she was doing it try to convince herself that McGee and Moore were wrong. She didn't want to believe that something had happened to Gibbs. But she was simply running out of ways to excuse his absence away.

"We'll try the traffic cams first. We're hardly desperate enough for Fornell yet. So back to the hotel!" Tim announced and headed hurriedly back towards their car. The other two agents trailed behind him. He had passed by a storefront window and traveled a few more feet beyond when he came to a abrupt halt. His peripheral vision had spotted something brightly colored against the darkened window he had just walked by. Tim turned and went back to look at the storefront. Immediately he saw the tall white coffee cup which stood on the ledge in front of the window. Being perhaps overly cautious he pulled a glove from his pocket and used it to pick up the cup.

"Whatcha ya got?" Moore inquired as he and Ziva arrived in front of the closed store as well. Tim did not reply verbally. He simply turned the cup around to show them what he had discovered. The other two agents looked at the blue colored logo printed on the coffee cup. It had come from Java Jim's.

"Gibbs left this for us," Tim finally stated.

"How do you know? I am sure other people get coffee there," Ziva questioned.

"Because I recognize the handwriting," the senior field agent replied and twisted the cup a little further to show them the message written out in black ink on the cup's side.

_St. Clair = The Wheel _

_Jeep RT423 _

_Chevy Silverado 8256P _

_St. Clair +2 _

_Right on Cross Court _

_Chasing Jack_

"Who is St. Clair?" Moore questioned.

"Daniel St. Clair. He's a detective with the local PD. When I spoke to Gibbs on the phone he had me look up St. Clair and send a picture to him. He never said how he got the name though."

"So this is where Gibbs has gone. Following after Jack Cutter and this St. Clair person?" Ziva suggested.

"We've got to find him. Quickly," Tim stated firmly as he turned to rush towards their car with coffee cup in hand. David and Moore hurried after him. All three knew the clock had started ticking and they were already racing to catch up.

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If his injured leg didn't foil his escape then Tony had decided that it would be the leaves. It was rather difficult to walk or in this case hobble through the woods in October in Maine without making a complete racket. All the dead leaves blanketing the ground were impossible to avoid stepping on and the rustling sound they made could quite possibly give away his location. Not to mention all the twigs and and other debris underfoot that would could snap even with the lightest of steps onto them. He was doing the best he could while still making steady progress away from the Jeep. But his injured leg was paying heavily for it.

His chest had tightened up and his breathing came in near gasps now. Tony knew he had to get it settled down and in turn his heart rate slowed so that he would be able to hear his surroundings better. And at the same time not be noticed for the noise he was undoubtedly making.

His eyes had adjusted fully to the darkness now. It was the one thing he had working in his favor. Coming upon a tree with a rather wide trunk he stopped and rested his back up against its rough bark for support.

Tony knew that the reprieve for his now aching body could not last long. He had seen the pickup truck returning to where his vehicle had gone down the embankment. He had also heard distant voices up on the road. There had been at least two men maybe three. At a distance it had been difficult to tell and he hadn't been able to make out anything that they said. It was nothing good. Of that he was certain.

He also knew without a doubt that The Wheel had found him. He wondered how they had come upon locating him. Had they finally figured out Fornell's involvement, unbeknownst to the FBI agent? Tony prayed that wasn't the case and that Fornell was safely on his way back home.

Tony leaned his head back against the tree and looked up at the night sky through the tops of the trees. Many of them had lost all of their leaves and their branches stood bare. It was fortunate since in spots it meant there were less shadows due to the added light that it allowed to filter through.

For some reason the expanse of the sky and the collection of stars that shone in it had a calming effect on him. His body was finally able to take in some deep breaths and release them fully. His chest loosened up and his heart settled. Even though he still had a pulsing headache he could think more clearly.

Tony was about to start back out again through the woods but something stopped him. His gut maybe? Or had there been a sound? He froze with his body pressed up against the large tree. His fingers gripped his gun more tightly. He quieted his breathing as much as possible.

And then he listened to the dark woods surrounding him as the minutes slowly ticked by. Until finally he heard it. Footfalls in the dead leaves. One set. Coming his way from the opposite side of the tree.

Then they stopped again perhaps three to four yards from where he standing behind the tree. The soft rustling of leaves broke the silence after a few heartbeats. The rustling started and stopped two more times but didn't sound to be getting any closer. The person seemed to be standing in one spot and turning around perhaps searching or deciding which direction to head in.

Tony had noticed earlier when he had passed by the area where the person was now positioned that the trees were a little more spread out there. That meant whoever this was had to be standing out in the open. This likely meant that Tony's presence behind the tree was undetected. Or this person was either really inexperienced or not very bright. He really preferred the first choice but the other two could be to his advantage if it came down to it.

A few seconds later the person was on the move again. Tony focused on the sound of the movements to determine where the person was headed. If they stayed on their current trajectory the person would pass by the side of the tree where Tony was hidden.

He had to make a quick decision. Either move around to the other side of the tree as the person passed by while hoping to be able to do it silently. Or attempt to take them out. Since he had heard multiple voices it meant there was at least one other man possibly two still out in the woods somewhere. Firing his weapon would have to be a last resort since it would give away his location to anyone else out here. That left trying to continue to conceal his presence or a physical altercation.

Tony clenched his free hand into a frustrated fist as he realized that given the condition he was in and the debris underfoot being able to move silently enough to remain unnoticed was unlikely. He would have to use the element of surprise and take the person down. He bent down and gingerly probed the ground for a small stone or stick. He found none right at that spot but did come up with an acorn which he picked up and held in his hand. He straightened up and waited for the precise moment the person would clear the tree and be right by his left shoulder.

When it arrived Tony tossed the acorn aiming it at the tree across from the one he hid behind. The noise of the acorn impacting the bark of the tree and then dropping onto the dried leaves on the ground was enough to make the person turn their attention fully away from him. And as soon as the person turned away Tony jumped him from behind and swiftly had the man in a choke hold. Unfortunately, the action caused the man to step backwards awkwardly and in an attempt to compensate and balance himself Tony's left leg twisted and pain shot through his body. This meant he was unable get in the few seconds of the hold it would take for the man to pass out.

Recovering from the burst of pain in his leg Tony struggled to regain a tight enough hold on the man's head and neck. Panicking from lack of oxygen the man struggled desperately inside Tony's grasp. The slightly shorter man had been carrying a rifle and now swung it up over his shoulder like a bat in an attempt to catch his attacker in the head with it but Tony ducked and yanked the man's body to the left which resulted in his head being slammed solidly into the tree. The man's body went slack in Tony's arms and the rifle he had been holding dropped from his grasp. It fell to the forest floor beside the tree. Its impact with the ground jarred the weapon harshly. The rifle discharged and Tony dropped to the ground.

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Gibbs halted dead in his tracks as the sharp sound of a rifle firing echoed throughout the woods around him. It had been close. He had heard enough rifle shots over the years to estimate their distance away. And this one was not far off from his present location.

Once again he cursed the situation. The shot had distinctly come from a rifle and not a handgun. And he had to wonder whether these guys also had night vision scopes. If so, it would make keeping his presence a surprise incredibly difficult. That didn't mean it wasn't possible. It also didn't mean he wasn't going to do his damnedest to make it happen.

Gibbs caught himself slipping out of gear in his objective. Somehow he had started thinking that it was St. Clair and his men against himself and Cutter. He mentally kicked himself to remember that it very well could be that Cutter was the opposition as well. But something told him that Jack needed that protection he had promised the waitress back at Traveler's.

Using tree trunks as cover Gibbs started out again. As he headed in the direction which the shot had originated from he moved swiftly but silently as possible. The element of surprise might just be his greatest weapon.

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Dropping to the ground as the rifle accidentally discharged had been a reflex. Something so engrained in Tony that he had not taken into account what the impact into the earth would bring to his already battered body.

The echo of the shot had dissipated and an eerie stillness had fallen over the woods surrounding him. And unless he was in shock it was clear the bullet had not hit him.

Tony moved his arms away from where they were protectively crossed over his head. Lifting his gaze he scanned the area around his location. Finding nothing he turned his attention to the man sprawled out beside him on the ground. Once he confirmed the other man was still unconscious Tony could finally attend to the pain radiating through his body.

Sitting up resulted in a sharp intake of breath. Pain shot through him like electricity. His left leg especially his knee now felt like it was on fire. But what was worse was that it hurt to simply breath. He clamped a hand onto his chest and tried to ride out the wave of agony which moving abruptly had brought. He had at the very least bruised his ribs in the crash but they had been tolerable before. His recent drop to the ground had ignited the soreness into downright pain.

After a few seconds the jolt of pain subsided slightly and Tony moved his hand from his chest to his face. He could feel the blood running down his right cheek. His fingertips easily found the large gash on his cheek just below his eye. He wiped away some of the blood and dirt and then swiped his hand on his pant leg to clear it away. His face must have struck something on the ground.

It was then that the daze he had been knocked into began to clear away from his mind. Inside his haziness he had remained at the tree. As quickly as the realization had dawned on him he had pushed down the pain and spurred himself into motion again.

The man on the ground beside him might be unconscious but there was still at the least one other out there. Possibly two. The shot would have given away his location. He should have already been on the move again.

He struggled to his feet and was about to retrieve the other man's rifle from where it had landed when the forest was no longer still and quiet. The sound of someone running through the dead leaves which blanketed the ground was distinct and getting louder.

Then in the next instant Tony realized it wasn't just one person because the sound was coming from two separate directions and it wasn't an echo. There was no time to retrieve the rifle or search the man on the ground. He had to leave immediately.

Tony took off in a direction that would carry him away from both pursuers. He could not afford to be as mindful of the noise he was making as he had before. The other two men had been closing in on his location back at the tree and he simply needed to put as much distance between himself and them as fast as possible.

He silently cursed his left leg and commanded it to continue to allow him to move quickly. And pushing through the pain it was giving him he managed to run at a fairly good clip through the woods for some distance. But it did not last.

Tony came to an abrupt stop at the top of a hill. The incline of the hillside lead down into a stream bed. Straining to see in the darkness he tried to make out the water's edges. It was difficult to discern much detail at a distance but it appeared the stream was narrow enough so he would be able to cross easily.

Tony began to make his way down the embankment at a steady but mindful pace. He had made it a quarter of the way down when his left foot landed on a loose rock concealed in the leaves. His knee buckled and the leg went out from under him. With the injured state of the leg his attempt to recover his balance failed. The leaves on the hillside were slick and his good leg was quickly out from under him too.

In the next heartbeat he found himself flat on his back and sliding down the embankment at a terrifying pace. Tony frantically scrambled to find something to grab onto to halt his body from careening further down the steep incline but found nothing. He continued to be tossed along down the hillside now tumbling side over side through the slippery leaves and over roots and rocks.

Then suddenly his whole body was airborne. Just before the edge of the stream the ground abruptly dropped off a small stone ledge. Tony's body sailed off the ledge and out over the water. Near the opposite bank of the stream the momentum faded out and Tony felt himself falling towards the ground.

In the next instant his lower body splashed down into the shallow water of the stream. The frigid temperature of the water shot through him. His upper body and head came down hard, slamming into the cluster of rocks along the stream's edge. And then finally Tony's body was motionless.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Rifle now slung by its strap over his shoulder Danny St. Clair drew his Glock handgun from the holster on his hip. He and Sutton and Greene had split up, fanning out to cover more territory. While he had been combing the woods in a westerly direction a rifle shot had rung out close by. He had broken into a run and crossed the distance to the area where the shot had originated in a matter of seconds.

Danny had stopped as he neared the location and raised up his rifle so he could peer through the the night vision scope and scan the area ahead of time. As he panned from left to right he had spotted someone running amongst the trees a ways straight up ahead of him. By the look of him it had to be Cutter. Unfortunately, the way he came and went out of view as he moved between trees eliminated the possibility of a clear shot. And Greene had said he preferred Cutter to be captured alive. So Danny had taken off in pursuit.

Danny had come upon a stream. He had been about to work his way across it using rocks which broke the surface here and there when he heard a sound upstream a short distance. Again using the scope on his rifle he had stopped and checked the area. It had been then that he spotted Jack Cutter halfway in and halfway out of the stream. It looked like he was struggling to stand up and having great difficulty doing so. That had been when St. Clair exchanged the rifle for his handgun and made his way swiftly and silently as possible upstream. As he neared Danny could see that Cutter was certainly injured. The man's movement were sluggish and on each attempt to stand he had faltered and landed back on his knees in the water.

"Do not move! Don't you so much as flinch!" Danny called out when he reached the edge of the stream where Cutter was amidst an attempt to climb out of the water. The detective trained his gun so it was aimed downward at the man. Cutter's body tensed upon hearing the voice and realizing he was not alone any longer.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Disorientation still had a strong hold on Tony when he heard the voice call out to him instructing him not to move. Every muscle in his body tensed up at the realization that they had found him. His head was spinning and everything around him was off kilter. He struggled to think straight and get a handle on some semblance of a plan. But anything of use seemed to elude his sluggish mind.

The one thing he was acutely aware of was that somewhere along the way his gun had been knocked out of his hand. He had either lost it in the high speed slide down the hill or during his spectacular crash landing in the stream where he was now knelt down in water nearly up to his waist.

"Hey man! How about everybody just stays calm here!" Tony said and looked up towards the bank of the stream where the voice had come from. He noted the gun pointed at him before glaring up at the man who held it.

"I amend my earlier instructions. Don't move _and keep your damn mouth shut_!" the man snapped at him. Tony pondered that. He had to come up with something quick. He could feign compliance by staying silent to lull the man into thinking he was cooperating. Or option number two would be trying to use some slick talking to confuse or distract the man and hope for an opportunity to turn the tables. However, he never had to choose because what the man did next gave him the one and only opening he knew may very well get.

The man had taken one hand away from his grasp on the handgun and had retrieved something from his jacket pocket. When Tony saw that it was a cell phone he immediately knew that if he allowed the man to use it they would soon have more company and any hope of escape would certainly vanish. Tony knew there were at least one or two others out here in the woods. The man's call would undoubtedly beckon them.

Tony considered the gun holstered on his ankle as a possibility. The first problem would be getting to it before the man put a bullet in him. He was on his knees in the stream and grabbing the weapon in one swift motion would be next to impossible. The other huge issue was whether he could trust the weapon. So far it had gone through a car crash, an abrupt drop to the ground, a tumble down a rocky hillside, a crash landing, and finally an extended dip in a stream. He had seen guns fire just fine after submersion but it was the ones he had seen which wouldn't that concerned him. The gun had definitely been banged around then submerged for some time. He didn't truly trust it. It would have to be a last resort.

Just for an instant the man took part of his gaze away from Tony to glance down at the phone in his hand. And the inattentiveness resulted in the weapon in his hand tilting downward slightly.

Tony knew that it was now or never. He just prayed that his body was up for what he was about to undertake. He knew better than to ponder on that too long since he probably wouldn't like the answer he would end up with.

With every ounce of fight he had in him Tony sprang to his feet and charged up the bank straight at the man. The collision of their bodies sent pain exploding through every fiber of Tony's body and sent them both crashing to the ground in a tangled heap. Only one thought consumed Tony though. _Get the gun._

The tackle ended with Tony on the top side of the heap they landed in and in scarcely a heartbeat he had the man's right hand with the gun still in it pinned to the earth. Clearly the other man was not going to surrender it that easily though. He struggled underneath Tony in an attempt to get there positions reversed so he was on top of the wrestling match while at the same time trying to free the hand with the weapon in it. Tony had already set his mind on the idea that the weapon was his and using his body weight on top of the man held him down in the dead leaves and dirt. With his left hand Tony held the weapon hand down and with his right he went for the gun.

For a long terrifying moment their battle became solely focused on who, ultimately, was going to possess the handgun. Even with his arm pinned down to the ground the other man still had enough strength to try to force the gun to point at Tony. And Tony fought to keep the muzzle end pointed away from him and to pry the firearm out of the other man's grip.

The man once again made an attempt to break his arm free from Tony's grasp on it. And, frighteningly, he was gaining ground towards accomplishing it. Tony could feel the man's strength taking over his own. Tony realized his body was weakened more than he first realized by the recent abuse it had taken. But he simply couldn't let the man end up with control of the gun. If he did he was signing his own death warrant.

Still struggling to keep the man's arm pinned down Tony shifted his body quickly and ground his kneecap into the man's side near his kidneys. The man yelped out in pain. As he did so Tony made a go at getting the firearm. His hopes that the pain he had delivered to the other man would provide either distraction or a momentary strength advantage were dashed in the next instant.

The sensation of a gun muzzle being pressed up against the back of his head froze him in place.

"You lose," a voice stated calmly from above.

"Would you get this crazy bastard off me already? Son of a bitch ain't exactly light," the man pinned to the ground below Tony snapped out.

"I suspect you'd like to do that yourself," the second man replied.

"With pleasure."

"Have at it then!" the voice from above offered. The second man removed the muzzle of the gun he was holding flush against Tony's head. But there was no doubt it wasn't moved far and certainly still pointed at him.

The man underneath Tony roughly knocked Tony's arm away from the hand where he had a hold on the weapon. Tony reflexively ducked to the side when the man swung at his head with the gun as an object of assault. The cold metal of the barrel still caught Tony across the cheekbone with force. He was recovering from the blow when the man reached up with his free hand and grabbed a hold of the collar of Tony's jacket and twisted the material tightly around his neck. Tony struggled to break the man's hold but lack of oxygen made everything fade in and out with lightheadedness.

Finally when Tony was certain he was going to pass out the man used his hold on Tony's jacket to jerk his body off to the side. There was enough strength behind it that Tony fell off the man and onto the ground beside him. Air flow now returned to his lungs Tony coughed and gasped for oxygen. The man had gotten up off the ground and now loomed over where Tony laid on his back in the leaves.

"And this is for earlier!" the man announced and then delivered a solid blow with his boot to Tony's side. Pain shot through Tony's body near the area of his kidneys and caused him to roll onto his side and curl into himself.

"Enough," the second man interjected. Tony noticed that the man's voice was not demanding but calm and cold when he said it. The other thing that he noticed was that the voice was vaguely familiar. But he couldn't quite pinpoint who it belonged to.

"What now?" Tony's former wrestling partner asked the other man.

"We get this son of a bitch up off his ass and marching through these woods. You got cuffs?"

"Just what kind of a cop do you think I am? Of course I've got cuffs," the first man replied with a offended chuckle. As he collected the set of handcuffs from the pouch on his waistband the other man retrieved a flashlight from his pocket and turned it on. He immediately directed the bright beam right into Tony's face. Tony turned his head away from the blinding light and sat up.

His mind was racing through options of what to do. Once he was handcuffed it would hinder his ability to make an escape attempt. But both of the other men still had their weapons trained on him and his body was not exactly in top fighting shape at the moment.

Then he registered what the man who was now behind him and about to cuff him had just said. He was a cop. Tony wondered if it was the man he had seen back the apartment building. But didn't ponder long since he started fighting when the man began to place the first cuff around his right wrist. Tony used their renewed wrestling match as cover and distraction for the opportunity to go for the gun which was strapped to his ankle. He had managed to tug up his wet pant leg and his numbed fingertips now fumbled to try and free the weapon from its holster. His hand had finally gained a solid grasp on the gun when a blow to his temple jarred him.

The whack of the flashlight up side Tony's head smarted but had been controlled. It held just enough force to get his attention but not badly injure him. Stunned, Tony stopped struggling but only for a passing beat. Then he went after his gun again. But it was short lived as the man with the flashlight pressed his gun into the center of Tony's forehead.

"I wouldn't. That is unless you want to bleed to death right here. Because I'd be more than happy to shoot you a few times and then leave your body out here for the animals to feed on," he stated. Once again his voice was cold calmness and Tony was certain he had heard it before.

Tony's only reply was to remain stock still while the cop roughly tightened the handcuffs around his wrists. When he was done he reached over and yanked the small caliber firearm from the holster on Tony's leg. He tucked the gun away in his waistband. Then he searched Tony from head to toe rather roughly. The entire time Tony remained still with the other man's weapon rested up against his head. The cop finished frisking him and straightened up.

Tony closed his eyes and savored his last glimmer of hope. The man had not discovered the knife hidden away in his belt. It was of little use at the moment given the handcuffs and the two against one odds but if he could manage to stay alive maybe an opening would present itself.

"Where's our third?" the cop asked his companion. But before the man with the flashlight could answer Tony spoke up.

"Yeah I don't think he's coming. I think that must be the guy whose head I slammed into a tree. Went right down like a sack of potatoes."

"You son of a bitch!" the man with the flashlight growled. His voice was no longer calm. Tony could hear the deep anger in it. So he was not surprised when the man dove at him and the flashlight in his hand struck him hard across the jaw. With his hands now cuffed behind his back the only thing that Tony could do to try and avoid the next blow was to drop over onto his side and get his legs in front of him to kick the man off him. And he managed to get a solid kick in sending the man stumbling back a few feet.

But it only enraged him more and the man was on top of him in the next instant. His knee ground painfully into Tony's abdomen as the man used the leg to hold him down. It also crushed Tony's hands between the ground and his body. The hard metal cuffs dug into his wrists and his back as Tony struggled to get out from under the man. But he could not move enough to escape the blows with the flashlight that the man delivered to his upper body and face.

Somewhere amongst his fighting and the rapid firing of blows Tony finally caught sight of the man's face more clearly. He instantly recognized the man as William Tucker Greene. He was a high leader in The Wheel and he was known as one of those in the group who was Wheel through and through to the core and bone. In that moment Tony realized that it was likely he was not getting out of this. William Tucker Greene had it in him to beat a man to pulp without one ounce of hesitation. He was going to beat Tony to death. He was sure of it.

So he was taken by surprise when the other man started to try and pull Greene off of him. When just the physical attempt by itself didn't seem to be sufficient he called out to Greene.

"Hey man! Greene! Hey! Greene stop! Didn't you say you wanted him taken alive! If you keep beating on him much longer he won't be! Greene! Stop man!"

And finally the blows slowed in their pace. The other man finally managed to pull him off and the beating ended. But for Tony the adrenaline rush that came with fighting began to wane and be overtaken by sheer pain pulsing through his body. He managed to roll on his side and curl into himself. Not wanting to show any signs of giving up the fight he turned his face toward the ground and buried his face in the dead leaves there. He somehow managed to hold back the sob which the pain begged him to voice but he was failing horribly at keeping the tears from welling up in his eyes.

He was so tired physically and mentally. And for a moment as he lay there he thought maybe he should just go out fighting like he always hoped he would. Maybe he should just provoke the man into continuing to pound on him while he fought back. Until finally it was one blow too many and his body succumb to the damage.

His stumbling point with that plan was that it would mean these bastards would win. The thought of that just made his blood boil with rage.

So while the two men standing over him debated with one another Tony distracted himself from the pain and his near inability to breath by plotting their downfall.

o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o&o

Gibbs stopped walking and calmed his breathing. There were voices carried on the night air amongst the trees. Focusing in on them he was able to discern the direction they were coming from and he made his way towards them.

As he moved along the voices became louder and more distinctive. And finally he spotted the bright beams of flashlights up ahead. He watched for a moment and determined they weren't on the move based upon the fact the lights never got any closer or further away. He would have to approach very carefully from here.

A few moments later he was leaned up against a tree a few yards from a stream at the base of steep hillside. Off to the left side of the tree was overgrowth and a downed tree creating a cluster of protection from which to observe the situation. Peering around the tree and through the brush he could see that there were three people. Two were standing on the bank of the stream and the third was on his side on the ground.

At one point a flashlight beam skimmed over one of the standing men's faces. Gibbs could clearly identify him as St. Clair. He had also gotten a look at the other man when he had moved into the glow of the flashlight held by the police detective. Gibbs did not recognize him at all but he was likely a Wheel member.

The third man on the ground was rolled on his side away from Gibbs. Even though both of the flashlights were trained on the third man most of his body was blocked from Gibbs' view because St. Clair stood partially in his line of sight. But Gibbs had instantly noticed the blonde hair which stood out brightly in the glow from the flashlights. The man on the ground had to be Jack Cutter. The Wheel had caught up to him.

The two men who were standing exchanged a few argumentative words grumbled in low voices. Gibbs couldn't make out what they said. But St. Clair seemed to give in to the other man who was at least ten years his senior by the look of him. The older man spat out his final thought on the matter in an clearly audible voice.

"He's a god damn traitor fed!"

Gibbs inhaled sharply. Had the man just indicated that Jack Cutter was a federal agent? And suddenly it dawned on him. That had been what Fornell was hiding. He had another man undercover in The Wheel now. Most likely an FBI agent. It explained why Fornell had suddenly appeared when they were closing in on Cutter and tried to get Gibbs to leave. Had Fornell not realized The Wheel had discovered Jack wasn't really on their side and were now in pursuit of him too? Or was the FBI agent chasing Jack in an attempt to warn him?

It also explained the near sterilized state of that apartment and the lack of a paper trail on the man. It also resolved the nagging question of why McGee had only received a kick in the face when Cutter had the opportunity to inflict much worse while Tim was out cold in that alleyway. That had been bugging him since it had happened. This was the huge piece his gut had been screaming at him about all along.

Gibbs swallowed down hard. When he still wasn't sure whether Cutter deserved a bourbon in his basement or a bullet in the brain there had been the option that he could walk away. If Cutter had turned out to be the bastard he initially presented himself as and Gibbs had no opportunity to take them all down without risking his own life he would have had no qualms about backing off and going for backup.

But now it was a completely different ballgame. Gibbs could feel in his gut what the man had said was the truth. The man laying on the ground a few yards away was an undercover federal agent in distress and now there was absolutely no walking away.

He felt his heart clench than rise back a little bit. He hadn't been able to save Tony but maybe he could save Jack Cutter or whatever this man's real name happen to be. It wouldn't lessen the loss but perhaps spare another family that kind of torturous grief.

Watching the scene in front of him Gibbs realized if he was going to do something now was the time. There had been three occupants in the pickup truck which had tailed Cutter's Jeep. But there were only two of them here near the stream. That meant the third man was still out in the woods somewhere, likely on his way to join up with the others. But for this moment his absence left the odds at two against two. That was unless Cutter was so badly injured he simply couldn't fight. Gibbs took his back up weapon from the holster on his ankle and tucked it in his waistband so it was quickly accessible. He pulled the flashlight he taken from his glove box earlier and held it in his left hand. His 9mm was already grasped in his right. Then he waited for the best opening.

It came quickly when the two men standing over Cutter both had their backs to him. He darted out from behind the tree and crossed the distance at a dead run. Both men started to turn around, likely in response to the noise he was creating running through the leaves. But Gibbs had already closed the gap and had his weapon trained at St. Clair from his new position only a few feet away from the man. Both had weapons, handguns and rifles, but he knew St. Clair to be a cop and he was the younger of the pair so he would be the first to receive a bullet in him if necessary.

"Federal agent! Drop the weapons!" he commanded loudly. Both men had fully turned now to face Gibbs. But they made no move to put down the handguns in their grasps or relieve themselves of the rifles slung over their shoulders. So they were now at a stand still.

Gibbs had an easy shot at St. Clair but the second man would certainly have a fair chance at shooting him before Gibbs could shift his aim. Many of The Wheel members were military and the other man had that look about him. It was likely he was well trained in aiming at and hitting a target as a kill shot.

Gibbs knew he had to try and see if he could even out the odds so without taking his gaze away from the two men standing in front of him he addressed the man on the ground.

"Cutter! You with me? Can you get up?" he questioned. Cutter let out a sound akin to a groan and began to struggle to get up but it was immediately clear by his sluggishness he was seriously hurt. The verbal answer came from the older of the two men standing in front of him instead.

"I wouldn't count on him to help ya considering he just got the smart ass beat out of him."

"Did it seem like I was talking to you, dumbass?" Gibbs snapped at him. He figured if he kept these two engaged long enough in a verbal battle perhaps Cutter might have enough time to recover.

"You can't win this," the police detective stated confidently.

"Is that right Detective St. Clair?" Gibbs retorted. A flash of surprise passed over the man's expression as he realized the federal agent knew his name. But he quickly hid any other reaction away.

"Yes. It is Agent Gibbs," the other man responded in the detective's place.

"You know him?" St. Clair asked without taking his eyes off Gibbs.

"We haven't officially met but we have a mutual acquaintance," the man offered.

"So who is he?"

"I'd like you to meet Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

"Wait. NCIS? He the navy cop that chased Cutter off back the pub?" St. Clair questioned.

"Yes. He is. For what little good it did. We caught up in the end," the other man explained. Gibbs noted the hint of a smile that came over the man's face as he had spoken.

It seemed odd placed given the situation and Gibbs got the distinct feeling he was being played somehow. He didn't particularly care for the idea that this man seemed to know who he was but he couldn't say the same. Especially since the man had referred to a mutual acquaintance. There was no doubt in Gibbs' mind he was talking about DiNozzo.

As that sunk in all he wanted to do was beat the man into a bloody pulp and then put a full clip of bullets in him. But right now there were other pressing matters.

As this rather strange stand off had gone on Gibbs had tracked Cutter in his peripheral vision. The man had very unsteadily made it up onto his hands and knees. Gibbs had seen him spit out an alarming amount of blood onto the ground. He had tried to speak a few times but it only resulted in him expelling more blood. It explained why he hadn't been able to get out anything more than a few sounds.

Despite that himself and the other two had flashlights casting a wide glow Gibbs hadn't been able to get a clear view of Cutter's face yet to assess if the man had been beaten about the face and perhaps had a head injury. The man's hair was not close cut and with his head hung down the blonde locks hid his facial features.

"Like the detective here said. You can't win this Gibbs. What's the point in this ridiculous stand off? You can only take out one of us before the other puts a bullet in you," the older of the two men before him stated. As he spoke Gibbs noticed something in his peripheral vision. Cutter had pushed himself up and now sat back on his haunches. His head was still hung but it appeared to be because his gaze was focused down at his waist. Gibbs could clearly see that the man's hands were trembling as he tried to work the buckle on his belt open. But he didn't finish before a coughing fit wracked his body and he was on his hands and knees spitting out more blood.

Gibbs could now tell Cutter was clearly out of it probably due to a blow to the head or perhaps several. In the middle of all of this the man had been determinedly focused upon his belt buckle.

Gibbs now put his whole gaze upon the two men in front of him.

"What's it going to be?" the older of the pair stated. Gibbs knew it was not a choice. His tone implied that he was confident in Gibbs' surrender. An instant before he said it Gibbs had seen his eyes spark up as if he had just realized something Gibbs hadn't yet. But in the next instant he found out.

A desperate hoarse voice cried out to him in the night.

"On your six!"

The rifle shot rang out right on top of it. And a fraction of a heartbeat later red hot searing pain tore through the back of his shoulder and sent Gibbs down to his knees on the ground. Before he could manage to recover St. Clair had tackled him. Gibbs fought for a hold on the man but the more he exerted himself the dizzier he got. And eventually St. Clair had him pinned on his stomach down in the dead leaves which blanketed the ground. The detective then patted him down and relieved him of both his firearms.

Through the pain and the anger and the defeat crashing in on him Gibbs could hear the other man's voice off in the hazy distance. But the man wasn't addressing him.

"Well, Cutter looks like our third man has a harder head than you anticipated when you slammed him into that tree. He can even still shoot. Didn't even matter that you tried to warn Gibbs. Which by the way you are going to regret."

Gibbs had recovered a bit of ground on the pain from the gunshot wound and took up fighting to get out from under St. Clair who had his knee in his back to hold him down. Gibbs tried to lift his head up to attempt to see Cutter and the other man but St. Clair pushed the muzzle of his gun into his skull forcing it back down.

"Nice timing!" the detective commented. Gibbs could hear crunching footfalls in the dried leaves approaching up the bank of the stream. Their third man had arrived.

"Timing still on target. But Blondie over there is the reason I only planted that bullet in a shoulder. Can hardly see straight. I want just two minutes with him. Me, him, and a nice hard tree trunk."

"Stand down Sutton!" the oldest of the trio instructed. Gibbs could tell by the distance of his voice that he was likely over near where Cutter had been positioned. He hadn't heard Cutter in a few moments other than a cough here and there.

"So what do you want me to do with this one?" St. Clair asked the older man who seemed to be in charge here.

"He's coming with us. I have a feeling he will be useful in getting answers out of Cutter here."

"We're not finishing Cutter off here then?" Sutton questioned. To Gibbs he sounded disappointed at the prospect. But since everything was coming through to him in fuzzy bits and pieces it was hard to tell for sure.

"Oh no. We're taking him on a little trip."

"He's looks half dead. How did you expect us to manage to take his sorry ass with us?" the newest arrival complained.

"I don't give a shit if you have to drag this one out of here by his hair! Just get him back to the truck!" the man in charge yelled back. In the next breath he had stormed over to where Gibbs lay on the ground. He reached down and roughly grabbed the NCIS agent by the back of his jacket and started to haul him up. St. Clair released his knee from Gibbs' back and stood as well.

"Get Cutter!" he commanded of the other two men. Once they had moved away the leader turned his attention back to Gibbs. They were about the same height so now that Gibbs was standing they were eye to eye. The man pressed his gun into Gibbs' chest firmly. But it was not that action that fazed Gibbs. It was what the man growled at him in a low cold voice so only he could hear it.

"You listen to me you son of a bitch. And listen good. You try anything. I mean so much as you glare at one of my men threateningly Cutter pays for it before you do. And it won't be pleasant for him. I will literally tear him apart if you make me. And you'll regret having tried anything especially when you get a good look at him! Now walk!

For the moment Gibbs did as instructed and headed in the direction in which the other man shoved him. The man's cold words clung to his thoughts as he walked along. But what haunted him was the look in the man's eyes when he had spoken them.

There had been true belief and merciless intent in them.

Even more Gibbs had also seen in them that his fate and that of Jack Cutter had now been bound together in the mind of this man. They would live or die together.

_To Be Continued..._

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**_Thanks for reading and reviewing!_**

_Author's Note: Since this story is all written (but far from over) and I'm just editing/reworking before posting chapters I have started pondering what's next. I need to finish reworking The Ebony Road for one. But had many other ideas on what to write next. I have narrowed it down and the following are in lead for my choice. But thought I would see if they would be of interest to readers. If not I have tons of other ideas._

_First Choice:_

_Title: Stand Under The Big Blue Sky_

_A Tony/Abby friendship fic _

_Summary: Tony goes with Abby to track down a biological relative of hers. And they find adventure along the way. And of course a bit of trouble too. Mostly the pair each has something that they are wrestling with along the way. Will they come home empty handed or find what they are looking for even if it wasn't what they originally set out after?_

_Second Choice:_

_Title: The Road To Stillwater_

_A Tony centric fic_

_Summary: Tony travels to Stillwater to deliver news to Jackson Gibbs about his son. But those miles are only the beginning of his journey._


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